


Did It Hurt When You Fell From Heaven? (Or Should I Walk By Again?)

by RyanTheFreewoodGuy



Series: Did It Hurt When You Fell From Heaven? (Or Should I Walk By Again?) [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angel!Ryan, Eventual OT6, M/M, Polyamory, Rakshasa!Gavin, Skinwalker!Ray, Trickster!Geoff, Witch!Jack, primary/secondary polyamory, vampire!michael
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3647871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanTheFreewoodGuy/pseuds/RyanTheFreewoodGuy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan is assigned to a huge task, direct orders from the Father himself. Ryan knows he can't do it on his own, so he enlists the help of a lanky shapeshifter and a couple strangers. He never expected it to end up like this, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Tale of the Trickster and his Witch

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> Just a note: I'm going to be using the monster lore found throughout Supernatural but won't be using any of the actual storyline of the show. I might bend their abilities a bit to suit the story, but that's where I'm getting most of my information. I'm including it in the story so that you know exactly what everyone is capable of. 
> 
> Let me know if you have any suggestions! You can always find me at luchemuffin.tumblr.com ♥
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Ryan wasn’t sure when he had started his journal. It had probably been after one of his assignments back during the time of the pharaohs, the first run in he had had with the first supernatural creature that wasn’t staring back at him from a mirror. Plus, the creature he’d been surveying had more papyrus than any one being should ever have so he hadn’t noticed when Ryan had nicked a few to start his now-brimming journal. Being an archangel meant that he had the chance to take on the harder tasks his Father gave him. Most of the lesser angels were stuck being guardian angels, following a charge throughout their life to make sure that they didn’t do something stupid and end their timeline early (especially through demon-related means).

He himself had been created at the dawn of time, a faithful servant of his Father, protecting his newest creations. Ryan had found himself inexplicably drawn to the human race. They were far more intelligent than his Father’s past creations (with the legion of angels being the only exception, of course) and had an intense curiosity that rivalled his own. Thus, over the course of his existence, he had studied everything about them. He jotted down notes whenever he learned something new – new capabilities, new weaknesses, diet patterns, anything that would help him understand the creatures – but after a couple millennia he found himself finally growing bored with his single-track observations. So he shifted his focus to the supernatural.

He was obviously no stranger to the topic. In fact, his first entry had been about angels themselves. He had laughed when he was first writing it all down, a small voice insisting that it was ridiculous since he obviously already knew all the information, but something deep inside him told him that he might one day have to share the information. He was just preparing for the future, he reminded himself.

Now, as his fingers traced over meticulous handwriting, the ancient language looking strange upon the bright white paper, he smiled, happy that he had left his mark even if it was only in his own studies.

••○••○••○••

Entry #1

**Archangels**

Capabilities:

• Communication: Telepathy, Inter-Angelic Speech, Dream Walking, Voice Mimicry

• Environment Manipulation: Tele-, Bio-, Pyro-, and Electrokinesis, Time Travel (With Heaven’s Help), Weather Manipulation, Reality Warping

• Personal Effects: Superhuman Strength, Teleportation, Invisibility, Healing, Supernatural Perception

• Effects on Others: Healing, Resurrection, Sedation, Smiting, Memory Manipulation, Revelations, Soul Reading, Soul Channelling, Power Removal of Lesser Angels, Matchmaking

Weaknesses:

• Can be killed by: Death’s scythe, Cambions, Leviathans, Pieces of Heaven, Unsuitable Vessels, an Archangel’s Blade

• Banishment/Protection: Blood Sigils, Holy Oil, Exorcisms

Diet

• None

••○••○••○••

He sighed wistfully and turned the page, skimming through the various entries about every creature he’d encountered on Earth. He stopped at a particularly well-worn page, fingers dancing along the title of the entry.

••○••○••○••

Entry #27

**Tricksters**

Capabilities:

• Can make things appear out of thin air, demi-god like (immortal and invulnerable), reality warping, mild shapeshifting, teleportation, super strength, super speed

Weaknesses:

• Can be killed by: a stake dipped in the blood of one of their victims

Diet

• Sweets

Encounters:

• Geoff Lazer Ramsey

••○••○••○••

* * *

19 June 1297

Geoff Ramsey remembered the day he’d been created and he remembered it very, very well. He never found this fact strange until he had spent several years with the humans. The first time he saw an infant he nearly fell over laughing. He hadn’t understood that that’s how people were _born_ : tiny suggestions of the people they were destined to become. Instead, he simply assumed that these humans just drew the short end of the stick (pun intended, of course) and were cursed to live out their tiny existence like the pathetic creature he saw crawling before him. Imagine his surprise when he returned to that same village three years later and found that the miniscule human being had more than tripled in size. The kid was growing – and fast. For some reason, this revelation caused Geoff to take a lot more interest in the children he started meeting in various villages from then on.

Being a trickster was a thrill he never quite got over. His ability to pull the greatest pranks on people was only enhanced by his undying curiosity for humans as well as the creativity that you could always see burning brightly behind his shiny blue eyes. And though he was a nightmare for adults – most had simply lost their sense of wonder and playfulness, he realised quickly – most children found his antics wildly enjoyable. He would weave fantastic universes for them to explore, worlds that would only exist for them and their amusement. Geoff knew that many of his siblings would use their powers for more sinister things: money, power, fame, sex. But Geoff hadn’t wanted those things. His sole desire was to laugh and to have others laugh with him. That’s why entertaining the kids he met during his travels had been so enjoyable, he decided. They understood the burning passion he had for life and for humour and for making others happy.

And when he stumbled into Salem, Massachusetts three days after the New Year in 1674 and his eyes met the new-born with wisps fiery hair and an even more explosive spirit, he knew that he had never been happier.

* * *

••○••○••○••

Entry #59

**Witches**

Types of Magic:

• Black/Dark Magic: Malevolent energy with negative purposes such as killing, injuring others, self-profit, and destruction

• White/Bright Magic: Benevolent energy with positive purposes such as curing and protecting others, improving and restoring things, and the general profit of others.

Possible Capabilities: Capabilities depend on the power of the witch

• Channelling, potion brewing, spell casting, astral projection, elemental control (aero-, geo-, hydro-, pyrokinesis), levitation, longevity, mind control, telekinesis, telepathy, teleportation, transfiguration

Weaknesses:

• Powers are weakened by: iron

• Can be killed by: magic stronger than their own, anything that can kill mortal humans

Diet:

• As they are human, they share the range of the human diet

Encounters:

• Jack Shannon Pattillo

••○••○••○••

* * *

It had been Christmas Eve and Jack had yet to find someone to play with him. He had dutifully stayed away from his mother as she had prepared the feast they were to eat before tonight’s midnight vigil but now he was growing bored and found himself itching to pass some time with another person.

He was five but would proudly remind everyone that it was less than two weeks until he was six. The people in his town had given his mother strange looks for letting the boy venture off so far from home alone, but his obvious sense of responsibility and his insistence that he was older than he looked caused them to finally stop pestering the Pattillo family about their son.

Jack picked up a pebble and threw it as far as he could, surprised when it kept bouncing further and further. He started throwing everything he could find, amazed when all the rocks and sticks he’d tossed were hopping around as if they were alive. He giggled but froze when he heard someone approaching from the forest behind him. His eyes widened, chestnut brown shimmering slightly in fear. The man that emerged from the foliage had a crazy, curling moustache that was so unlike anything the boy had ever seen. His soft blue eyes were lidded slightly and a smile played at his lips under the black facial hair. For some reason (and against everything his mother had taught him about strangers), Jack trusted the man.

“Do you want to play with me?” he asked the dark-haired man eagerly.

The man laughed and nodded, extending a single hand to be shaken. Jack grabbed it and pumped it a few times before letting his eyes travel up the man’s arms, fascinated by intricate patterns that swirled against the pale background. “I’m Jack, by the way,” he remarked, voice slightly distant from how intently he was studying the tattoos.

“Geoff,” the other man offered before snapping his fingers together and causing the markings on his arms to take on a life of their own. He chuckled as he saw the kid grow closer, fingers tracing over the mermaid on his hand that was flirtatiously winking and blowing a kiss.

The kid now looked up at the stranger, face illuminated by sheer awe. “What else can you do, sir?”

Geoff smirked, two fingers already raised in preparation to snap as he smoothly replied, “I guess I’ll just have to show you, huh?”

* * *

Jack would’ve been lying if he said he had expected the happiness Geoff brought into his life. The man gave him hours of fun, finding new ways to fascinate the young boy each time they met. Through Geoff’s powers, Jack was able to walk on clouds, fight dragons, and explore the oceans. But as their adventures together continued, days turning into years, Geoff noticed he could feel faint sparks emanating from the boy’s skin.

The kid had just passed into adulthood, his eighteenth birthday flashing by before he knew it. They had spent it together, laying together in a reality that Geoff knew the boy enjoyed most. The older man knew that he wanted to address the magic he had been feeling coursing under the kid’s skin for the past few years, but he couldn’t really find the words. For some reason he didn’t think saying something akin to _Hey, have you ever considered dabbling in witchcraft despite the oppressive Puritan society you live in?_ would go over too well. Still, he was certain that the magic was there, and he wanted Jack to start honing his skills immediately. He knew that the boy – no, _man_ now, he corrected himself – would be powerful; he was one of the few natural witches that existed. But that power could ultimately be dangerous if he didn’t learn to control it.

Jack noticed Geoff worrying at his lip with his teeth. “What’s got you so worked up, Geoffrey?” the younger man asked, hand idly rubbing at the coarse hairs that had recently started sprouting from his face.

The older man sighed and sat up, the silver grass dancing lazily around him. Jack followed suit, eyes staring intently at his friend while he tried to imagine what would have the trickster so worked up.

“Well, you obviously know that there’s a whole world out there that humans usually aren’t privy to. I mean, hell, you know about what I am and you accepted it pretty easily.”

Jack nodded, clicking his tongue. “It’s hard not to believe when you’re five and the snap of someone’s fingers can make stones do the damn waltz.”

A sigh slipped from Geoff and he dug the heels of his palms into his weary eyes. “Okay, point taken. Still, you could’ve outed me as, you know, a _witch_ or something.” His voice was heavy on the word, lips rounding the beginning more than they needed to, teeth crashing together to accentuate the ending.

Jack stiffened, eyes wide as he turned towards his friend. A gulp. “How long have you known?”

“A couple years. You?”

“Just this past October. Mother needed some candles lit for a banquet but I couldn’t find the matches. I got so mad that I just kinda pointed my hands towards the wick and screamed and it burst into flames. I’ve been fooling around with spells and potions now in my spare time, but I have to be so careful about it, you know? I’d prefer to not have my life end at the ripe, young age of eighteen.” He closed his eyes and sighed, images of flames dancing before him. When he opened them again, Geoff’s face was much closer to his, blue meeting brown in a suddenly too-intimate gaze.

“I’ll help you,” the gent offered. “I can create a universe perfect for you to train in. No one will find you there. You’ll be safe. I promise, Jack Pattillo. I’ll always keep you safe.” He placed a gentle hand on the side of the boy’s face, ink swirling in time with his heartbeat.

The younger man glanced down, swallowing harshly before nodding and looking back up. “Yeah, I’d like that, Geoff.”

* * *

They covered a lot in a month, and Jack could steadily feel the magic growing more powerful as each day passed. He had started with small things – controlling fire, moving rocks a short distance, shifting the direction of the wind – but quickly escalated his tasks once Geoff was pleased with his progress. He learned to teleport himself a few feet, to lift himself off the ground a couple inches, to cast spells and craft potions that would allow him to do everything from survive a large fall to breathe underwater.

But February of 1692 just _had_ to rear its ugly head and ruin everything Geoff and Jack had been working on.

It had started with a family a couple houses down from Jack’s. Someone had accused the girls of being witches (even though he now could sense others’ magic and there clearly wasn’t any in the girls) and soon everyone was pointing fingers, desperate to place the blame somewhere other than themselves. Trials were held, people were killed, families were torn apart. Officially, only around twenty people had been sentenced to death. At least, that’s what Jack had heard. Many more people had been put to death in the following year. Sure, they weren’t sanctioned by the courts, but public opinion was that witches were deserving of death, and damn, public opinion was _loud_.

So Jack had lived a year of his life in outright fear. His mother had been accused, but luckily little more came from that. It was a blind pointing of fingers, and no one had really believed that Mrs. Pattillo would’ve been capable of that. She was, after all, one of the foremost women in the community and highly active in their church community. Jack shrunk under the scrutiny his family faced, though, and worried constantly. He refused to use his magic, despite Geoff’s constant protestations. But the thought of death was more terrifying than not using his powers. Geoff had pointed out time and time again that not only could Jack _control_ the fires that he would probably face if he were taken to the stake, but the young witch also had access to a _very_ large assortment of things that would protect him from any sort of danger. Still, the boy ignored the magic that coursed through his veins and threatened to explode any time he got too emotional.

But after a year, the panic died down. Salem went back to the sleepy Puritan town it once had been. Jack was still all too careful when he asked Geoff to open their training world up again. The older man happily obliged though, snapping his fingers together with a toothy grin.

* * *

With the now infamous Salem Witch Trials behind him, Jack knew he was (mostly) free to work on improving his skills again. And with Geoff constantly at his side now, his powers weren’t the only thing that began to flourish.

The two men found themselves staring at one another, embarrassed when the other noticed. What used to be glancing brushes now turned into lingering touches and their typically playful insults had completely lost their venom.

Five years passed. Five years of flirting and dancing around the topic. Five years of blatant pining, each man too oblivious to realise the other returned his affections. Five years of struggling to keep their lips off of one another.

So on a cold February day, the day that came once every four years due to some weird quirk in the Earth’s rotational patterns (Jack only knew about it because Geoff had personally been tracking it himself), Geoff found himself groaning in frustration when Jack had turned to ask something, eyes alight with passion and a little bit of magic. Suddenly, their faces were close, too close, and the trickster couldn’t help himself. He closed the gap and slotted his lips against the witch’s. He started to retreat, realising what he’d just done, when Jack growled and all but swallowed Geoff whole.

After a few minutes, they pulled back, panting in the cool air that surrounded them.

“How long have you known?” Jack asked, mind flashing back to their conversation six years ago when Geoff offered to help hone his skills.

“Since the day I first saw you use your magic,” he looked lovingly up at the man in front of him, eyes shining with admiration. “You?”

“Five years. I waited five years because I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same way, scared that you _couldn’t_ feel the same way.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make up for lost time then, yeah?” he mumbled before pulling the man down into the grass on top of him, lips quickly finding his partner’s again.

* * *

Ryan smiled as he remembered first seeing the couple curled up around each other. Geoff had snuck into Jack’s room that night, their whispers and moans melting together beautifully. Ryan had been there in the corner. His Father had sent him to check on the trickster, actually. It wasn’t often that the demigods stayed in one place for long, and the legion was getting antsy. Geoff obviously wasn’t like other tricksters though, the angel quickly noted. As if the man knew what the angel was thinking, he leaned over the witch and murmured more cheesy declarations of love before showering his face in kisses. He laughed when his moustache brushed the younger man’s beard, their hair tickling each other in the intimate motion. Ryan was glad for his invisibility, fully aware that his presence would be highly undesired at this moment in time. He made a few more notes for his report before teleporting away from the tiny room and back to the home of the person he’d used as a vessel.

He’d had several vessels, people willing to receive an angel of the Lord, but he always felt so guilty _wearing them_. He shuddered at the thought, memories of the humanity pushing against his grace resurfacing. It had been his wife that ultimately freed him of that problem, but he immediately pushed that train of thought away, locking it somewhere deep in his mind so he wouldn’t have to think about it. Still, the familiar feeling of guilt gnawed at his soul and he found himself forcing his eyes back to the journal in front of him.


	2. I'd Say Our Bark Is Worse Than Our Bite, But Unfortunately That's Not Really True Anymore, Is It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael's storyline, meet Ray's storyline. Ray's storyline, meet Michael's. (Also, Ryan, you've got some impeccable timing sometimes, dude.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started playing a new game. It's called "ignore everything and lay in bed and quietly sob". I'm winning so far.

••○••○••○••

Entry # 103

**Vampires**

Capabilities:

• Enhanced senses (especially sight and smell), immortal and unchanging, healing (with human blood, except for amputations)

Weaknesses:

• Sunshine not deadly but can cause terrible sunburns

• Dead man’s blood paralyses and stops healing

• Can be killed by decapitation and angelic powers

• Burning saffron, skunk’s cabbage, and trillium can block the creatures’ ability to smell

Diet:

• Blood (either human or animal)

Encounters:

• Michael Vincent Jones

• Lindsay Elise Tuggey

••○••○••○••

* * *

Michael swore loudly as another bullet whizzed past his head. He ducked behind a tree, panting hard as he tried to figure out where he was.

“Come and fight, you coward. I didn’t realise the Union was hiring little girls now,” a cruel voice chided, years of hatred and tension between the States evident in his words.

And that hatred soon rushed through Michael, coating his vision in red. He pivoted around the thick trunk and raised his rifle, firing as fast as he could. But the Confederate soldier was faster as his gun had already been aimed at where he thought Michael’s head would be. Sure, his aim was a little shoddy, but the bullet had flown straight into the auburn soldier’s chest causing him to slump to the ground with an anguished scream. The Confederate soldier soon turned on his feet, running back to find his squadron and leaving the dying man by himself.

Time stretched on forever. Michael could’ve sworn that he’d been lying in that forest for days, blood seeping into the dirt around him. He couldn’t force his eyes to focus so he let the darkness swallow him whole. Pain scorched through his veins as his strength rapidly faded, the searing so strong that he swore he was being burnt alive. And when he opened his eyes to check for flames, his blurry vision was filled with a new shade of deep red, seemingly confirming his fears. However, the dark crimson wasn’t a fire; instead, it was a beautiful woman with hair the colour of the sacred liquid spilling from his body and eyes as black as the night. She leaned closer to his face, fingers pressed against his slowing pulse.

Michael tried to open his mouth to say something, but he ended up just weakly parting his lips and letting a miserable moan slide through. He knew he didn’t have any time left as he felt the final vestiges of his energy dwindle. Before he let his eyes slip shut, he watched as the mysterious woman raised her wrist to her mouth. He let his eyelids flutter closed for the last time. As the darkness was overtaking him, he noticed a warm, coppery liquid flowing past his lips, but it was already too late.

He closed his eyes and finally felt nothing.

* * *

A week later, Michael did something he never would’ve anticipated: he woke up. There was a pounding behind his temples and his throat was drier than it had ever been and for once he had no idea where he was.

He looked around the room, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. He was lying on a bed – and not his own, he noted a few seconds later – and there wasn't much else in the room besides a desk, a chair, and a set of drawers. The door was slightly ajar, and Michael could hear faint noises coming from another room he assumed lay behind it, so he gingerly righted himself and headed toward it.

It creaked slightly when he opened it and he winced. Any other day, he would’ve hardly even noticed, but for some reason the sound seemed to be louder than anything the man had ever heard. He clamped his hands over his ears in frustration but the damage was already done.

He pulled himself out of his pained trance and slipped through the doorway. The clinking sounds got louder as he walked down the narrow hallway passing two or three doors on the way. He wanted to check those rooms as well, but the scratchiness of his throat and the insistent noise were pulling him too strongly for him to do much more than consider it.

He paused when the hallway turned and opened into a small kitchen. Perched upon the countertop was the mysterious woman he had seen in the woods, a long knife in one hand and a sharpening stone in the other. She was looking up at him, obviously having heard him approaching long before she should’ve. Michael swallowed hard, unsure what to say to the woman who could probably kill him in less time that it would take to cry for help.

“I, uh, I’m Michael. Michael Vincent Jones,” he finally croaked out. His dry throat ached with the words and his head pounded when he realised how loudly he seemed to be talking.

Almost forty-five seconds passed before the woman hopped down from the counter and walked over to inspect Michael. After she found (or didn’t find, he guessed) what she was looking for, she squared her shoulders to him, smiling and offering a slender hand to shake. “Lindsay Elise Tuggey. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Jones.”

“Could I, uh, maybe have some water? My throat is drier than the creek beds during the summer drought.” Three painful coughs punctuated his request.

Lindsay’s features softened even further when she understood what was going on. “I can give you water, but it won’t be enough to satisfy you.”

Michael cocked an eyebrow at that. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for some sort of puzzle; he just wanted to feel better as soon as he could.

“Michael, do you remember anything about what happened before you fell asleep?” Her golden eyes searched his face imploringly ( _that’s strange_ , Michael thought, _hadn’t they been black?_ ).

He froze when the meaning of her words finally registered. He didn’t remember every moment, but he knew enough. “I was shot,” he choked out, panic lacing his statement. “I was shot. And I died. But I’m not dead. At least, I don’t think I am. Is this Hell? Am I in Hell? I’m only twenty-two! I’m too young to be in Hell!”

Lindsay’s hands landed on his shoulders. He tried to struggle against her grip, but it was too strong. He looked at her, eyes wide with fear. This woman was by no means tiny or fragile, he was well aware, but she shouldn’t have that kind of strength. She didn’t even look like she was trying too hard, either.

“You’re not in Hell, Michael,” she eventually murmured, voice low and comforting. “You aren’t even dead. Well, not in the traditional sense, I guess.”

Michael attempted to jerk away again, surprised by her latest confession. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that I did what I had to save you. Our lifestyle can be dangerous, unsavoury, and at times, downright lonely. But I couldn’t let you die on the forest floor, especially at the hands of that scumbag.”

The man shuddered at the words, remembering his hatred for the Confederate soldier that shot him. Yes, they had been fighting in the war. It was both their duty, something they had to do for their country. When New Jersey announced that they needed men to enlist, Michael signed up immediately. His family had been killed in a Confederate raid the month before, leaving Michael alone for the first time in his life. It was the only option that he could see.

But that hadn’t meant that he wanted to die for his country. He hadn’t wanted to kill. Sure, Michael knew he had an inextinguishable temper, but he had had no desire to take another person’s life. Still, here he was two years after enlisting and his death count was higher than he could even keep track of anymore.

Still, he wasn’t understanding Lindsay’s cryptic sentences. “I don’t understand. What lifestyle? How am I… alive? Well, apparently not alive, by what you said, but I’m standing and my heart is pumping and I’m _really fucking thirsty_.”

“Michael, water’ll do you no good. You’re a vampire now.”

And before he had really even processed that statement, he was hurtling towards the floor, darkness slipping around him once more.

* * *

The next time he awoke, Lindsay had been sitting next to his bedside twirling a golden chalice idly. As soon as she heard him startle from his sleep, she was on the bed, fingers gently opening his mouth and lifting the cup to his lips, silently asking him to drink.

And he did.

The contents of the cup were warm, and it instantly soothed the itching of his throat and the pounding in his head. The world around him snapped into a sharp focus even without the help of his glasses. Everything around him was suddenly loud, too loud, and he could smell every scent in the room. There was the soft cotton scent from the quilt he was sitting on, the faint sweetness of a perfume Lindsay must use, the bitter suggestion of sweat coating his body, the delicious copper of blood, the fantastic—wait _what?_

He choked on the liquid when it suddenly became impossible for him to swallow. He was drinking blood. Why was he drinking blood? Why was he fucking _enjoying_ it?

He scrambled backwards in the bed, shaking as Lindsay sighed and set down the goblet. “Y-y-you t-turned me into a god damned m-monster!” he shrieked, arms coming up to protect himself.

“Michael,” Lindsay breathed, not wanting to scare the man anymore. “I didn’t have any other choice.”

“You could’ve let me die!”

“I-. I couldn’t’ve done that and you know it.” The sadness in her eyes was nearly palpable as she watched Michael with her shimmering gold eyes.

He relaxed a little but was still obviously confused about how to feel. He didn’t want to let the woman think he was _okay_ with what she had done to save him, but he did feel a little twinge of gratitude. She had only been trying to help, after all. And she had nursed him back to health. Whatever ‘health’ meant now.

“Come on, let me show you how to hunt. You’re gonna need it.”

* * *

On the thirteenth day of July in 1923, the couple finally got married. It had been nearly sixty years since Lindsay had turned Michael. Once the man had accepted his new life, the two vampires quickly grew to be friends and then mates. Sometime after the turn of the century, they had relocated to New York. The animal population where they had lived before had been slowly vanishing due to the fact that there were now _two_ vampires trying to feed themselves. Plus, even though their neighbours were about a quarter of a mile away, they had been starting to get suspicious of the couple that never seemed to age.

The original accusation had been of witchcraft, which obviously wasn’t true, but it was enough to knock some sense into Michael. Of course they wouldn’t’ve been able to stay in one place for long. They were both frozen in time, two permanent twenty-somethings stumbling through their not so lifelike lives. Still, they didn’t need this kind of danger, so they packed up everything they thought they might need and left in the middle of the night. They ran faster than usual, having just fed that night, and they didn’t stop until they crossed the border into New York.

They moved every few years, staying under the radar as best as they could. They never fed from humans, something Michael had been adamant about and Lindsay happily agreed to (as long as they both promised to never touch cats). And it worked. It had worked so well. It was a perfect way to spend eternity, he thought.

Michael now laughed at himself for ever being so foolish as to think he would be allowed that pleasure.

* * *

••○••○••○••

Entry # 166

**Skinwalkers**

Capabilities:

• Can shift to their canine form at any time, superior sense of smell (even in human form)

Weaknesses:

• Can be killed by: silver to the head or heart

Diet:

• Hearts of victims

Encounters:

• Ray Narvaez, Jr.

••○••○••○••

* * *

All in all, 2005 probably could’ve gone better for Ray.

Ray’s world was twisting around him, up and down blending into one dizzying direction, wracking his body with intense nausea. It was his sixteenth birthday – or rather, it had been about an hour ago or so. He was supposed at his friend’s house for the night, but of course things never seemed to go the way the boy planned.

His friends had planned a huge backyard birthday party for him, complete with a keg and more liquor than he’d ever seen in one place. Being his first real experience with alcohol, he may have possibly overindulged a bit (but, hey, so had everyone else). He had already achieved more than a decent buzz by the time someone noticed red and blue lights in front of the house. Despite his rapidly rotating vision, he quickly vaulted over the back fence, feet landing clumsily in the alleyway. He tripped a few times but eventually sprinted down the alley toward his own home.

However, due to either his panic or the intoxication, he found himself more lost than he’d ever been. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he was in his own neighbourhood anymore. Was he even in New York anymore? ( _Of fucking course I am. I’m a god damn sixteen-year-old dude, not The Flash_.)

His frantic sprinting slowed to a wobbling shuffle as he attempted to locate anything he even remotely recognised. There was a park a little further ahead so he stumbled his way to the closest bench. He immediately collapsed, closing his eyes while his head continued to spin.

He must’ve started to doze off because soon he was startled from his sleep by loud, nearby barking. His eyes flicked around, frantically searching for the source of the noise. Due to his unnaturally slowed response time, however, he wasn’t able to turn around in time to see the pack of dogs rapidly approaching him before they were literally on top of him, biting and tearing every inch of skin they could sink their teeth into.

The pain was unbearable as he felt the sinew of his muscles being ripped apart, blood pooling in the gaping holes in his flesh. Patchy darkness began to surround his vision. But before he completely surrendered, he felt two fingers against his forehead, and when his eyes slipped shut, he was greeted by a bluish-white light instead of the black he had been expecting.

* * *

A sharp groan filled the otherwise silent room. Ray could already feel the effects of his hangover, the light shining from his window piercing his closed eyelids. He slowly sat up, eyes finally cracking open to survey his room. He couldn’t remember how he got home last night. In fact, he couldn’t remember a lot that happened after his third drink.

He turned to glance at his nightstand, phone plugged in next to a glass of water, a couple ibuprofen, and a large multivitamin. He gulped them down greedily, desperate for the relief they could possibly bring. His stomach gurgled at the sudden intake of water, but it soon settled and he let his eyes close once more.

 _I am never drinking again_.

Instantly, his thoughts drifted back to the last 24 hours. Images from the night before started flashing through his mind. The party. The drinking. The police. The park. The dogs.

Gasping, his body flew up, head spinning once more at being flung from his pillow so abruptly. Fingers traced his stomach, but he felt nothing but smooth skin. He tore off his shirt and bounded across the room to his mirror, eyes scanning every square inch of his body for something, _anything_ , that would prove that he hadn’t imagined everything. But his skin was just the way it had been for as long as he could remember.

Actually, upon further inspection, he realised it wasn’t. His eyes went wide when he noticed that the long scar he’d gotten on his forearm from a misjudged vault during a freerunning session had vanished. In fact, _every_ scar was missing. The acne marks, the parkour accidents, the reminders of his childhood. Gone.

He shakily pressed his back into the wall, sinking down to the ground in a smooth slide. Surely he was losing his mind, right? No one just gets attacked by dogs and wakes up even healthier – hangover aside.

“Ray Narvaez, Jr, you come downstairs right this minute, young man!” a melodic voice rang from outside his room.

He grumbled a few curses under his breath, bumping his head against the wall a couple times before putting on a clean pair of jeans and a decently smelling shirt before exiting his room to face his angry mother.

* * *

His mom had already heard about most of what went down on his birthday – well, at least as far as the party went. Ray just kept his head low during the scolding and received his punishment without (much) protestation.

Three weeks later and he was still doing penance. He had essentially been his mother’s personal aide, hence why he was now on a grocery store run. Sure, this would’ve been so much easier if he could drive, but he hadn’t bothered to take driver’s education and since he was now grounded until his mother decided otherwise, he probably wouldn’t be able to for a while. Either way, he knew that he had the entire walk to the store to goof around so he decided to practice his freerunning.

He quickly scaled a fence outside his house, flipping off the top and landing squarely on his feet. Since waking up mysteriously smooth-skinned three weeks ago, he did learn that he was still able to gather scars, so he still had to be careful. Basically it was like he had a blank canvas to work with now and he wasn't too keen on fucking it up so soon.

He ran next to a brick building, jumping and placing a few steps against the vertical surface before returning to the horizontal plane. His foot twisted a little as he straightened himself, but it was just a minor tweak, nothing to stop his forward movement. He vaulted over a few more chain-link fences, drawing steadily closer to the store. Wind whipped through his hair as he threw himself over the last obstacle between him and the end of the alley. The soles of his shoes met the top of a dumpster, but the plastic top caved in a little as he sprung off of it, throwing him off-kilter and completely screwing up his landing. The earlier injury to his ankle made it weaker than usual, rendering him unable to right himself. His knee slammed viciously into the ground and his hands bent backwards as he tried to catch himself before his face was violently introduced to concrete.

A pained growl slipped his lips. He was never this bad at freerunning. Sure, he hadn’t had much practice lately due to his maternally-imposed house arrest, but this was insanely frustrating. He lied there in the quiet alleyway for a couple minutes before hearing a sound that still haunted his nightmares – frantic, frenzied barking.

He tried – and failed – to get up several times, body collapsing in agony at each attempt. Knowing there was no way out of this, he covered his head with his arms and waited for the teeth and claws to claim him again.

But they never came. Instead, the barking ceased and was replaced by growling, an indistinct yell, and then whimpering. Ray let his eyes creep open, arms falling slightly. In front of him was a tall man, long black hair pulled back into a low ponytail and an angry red line cutting through one cloudy eye. The other eye, an almost unnatural teal, was focused on the dog closest to Ray.

“Theta, you better back off this moment.”

The dog growled again but soon pinned its ears down and took a few steps away from the kid before laying down on the ground with an exasperated noise.

“Epsilon, Delta, you two watch Theta and make sure he doesn’t do anything else stupid.” Two more dogs came from behind Ray’s head and moved to separate the kid and the first dog.

“W-w-what the fuck is going on?” Ray finally stuttered, equal parts annoyed and terrified.

The man at his feet huffed out a breathy chuckle before offering a hand to help him up. Ray took it hesitantly, hefting himself up enough to lean against the wall in as close to a standing position as he could muster.

“They call me Alpha. I’m the leader of this pack. Our pack. Your pack.”

Ray just stared at the man, mouth slightly agape. He didn’t even attempt to form any words.

“It seems like you had a guardian angel that night. My boys were prepared to have themselves a nice ethnic snack, but that glowing asshole showed up and healed you up nice and good. Unfortunately, even the best of the best can’t get rid of the effects of a skinwalker bite, and since my boys and I don’t kill or abandon our own, we’re stuck with you.”

Ray shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t understand. I’m not part of a pack. I don’t even know what a fucking skin-whatever is. I’m just a sixteen-year-old Puerto Rican kid who’s in deep shit with his mom.”

“Don’t be stupid. Haven’t you noticed the subtle changes since the incident? You’re hungry, no matter what you eat. You crave bloodier stakes, rawer meat. You can smell everything, not just the perfume that pretty girl in your homeroom wears. You can tell if someone’s approaching, if it’s going to rain, if food is bad, all through your nose. You want to run, to be free. Two legs just aren’t enough anymore. You feel off-balance and uncoordinated. You want to be in your true form now.”

The past month replayed in his mind: asking his mom not to cook his food so much, noticing the way even that annoying kid in his history class had a distinct smell, instinctually bringing an umbrella even when everyone said it wouldn’t rain, only to be the one kid who actually was prepared for the downpour that came out of nowhere.

The man was right. Ray didn’t know how, but he was completely and totally right. Something had changed in Ray since that night. He had just been fighting it with everything he had, desperate to not let it affect him.

“How do I fix it?” he muttered, voice low in his throat as he stared at his hands in disbelief.

“You let it take over, kid. Let it take over and we’ll teach you from there.”

“How do I do that?”

“Christ,” the man sneered. “I’m not your mom.” He paused when he saw the kid flinch. “Fine. Try running in a field and let your mind go. Let your beast take over.” Ray swallowed hard and then nodded. “Good. We’ll be back tomorrow to explain more. See you then, Rho.”

The man then took a few steps in the opposite direction, quickly picking up the pace before his body started shifting. Ray could hardly track the movement, to be honest. One minute, the man was standing tall, the next, he was on all fours, ears perked up and tail carried high. The other three dogs quickly followed their leader, howling as they took off down the alleyway.

“Holy shit,” Ray finally breathed, unable to fully process what just happened.

He sat in the alley hyperventilating for a while before he could pull himself together and stand on shaking legs. He headed toward the grocery store, quickly throwing everything on the list into a buggy before checking out and limping back home.

A few minutes from his house, he passed a vacant lot. It was essentially an empty field, a rarity for this part of New York. His mind flickered back to the end of Alpha’s conversation, his solution. This would probably be Ray’s only chance due to his mother’s reluctance to let him leave the house unless it was for her errands or for school.

He walked to the edge of the lot, hiding the grocery bags in a patch of exceptionally tall grass before being down to tighten his shoelaces. He stood up, rolling his shoulders a little and testing his ankle. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as it had, though that was probably largely due to the adrenaline pumping through his veins right now.

He set off in a light jog before speeding up, wind once again wrapping around him. He could feel a light rippling in his body, a warmth spreading from his stomach to his legs and up through his arms. His heart pounded in his chest, his lungs labouring under the exertion, but he had never felt this free. His feet slammed into the ground and he closed his eyes, feeling the warmth completely take over his soul. He felt like he was falling, his eyes snapping open only to be met with two unfamiliar… _wait, are those paws?_ His pace quickened even more, the four limbs carrying him much further and faster than two ever could. He felt freer than he ever had before and let out a few exhilarated whoops – which came out as… _barks?_

He looped around, running back to where he left the bags. He let his pace slow before he examined the parts of his body he could see. He counted four legs and the weight at the base of his spine was definitely a tail. The tips of two fluffy ears flopped against his head with each panting breath. Wild black, white, and rust fur covered his body. He could smell the crappy hotdog joint five blocks away, and the perfume of his crush two streets away, and the groceries sitting in front of him.

The scent of the groceries reminded him of a very angry mother who would be waiting for him back home. He shook his head before focusing on the creeping coldness in his stomach. He pulled on it, hard, and felt his body carefully shift back.

As he observed the five-fingered lumps of flesh in front of his face, one word repeated through his head.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit…_

* * *

Michael and Lindsay had been out in the city, counting down the hours until 2009. They didn’t go out often, knowing that there was a new clan of hunters in the area. But tonight was a big holiday, one that the couple couldn’t pass up an opportunity to celebrate.

They had been at a fancy club in the heart of New York City, easily drinking everyone else under the table and dancing like teenagers again. Michael had just been biting lightly at his wife’s neck, whispering dirty things in her ear and rolling his hips lazily against her. She was giggling, her ruby red hair dancing playfully against her shoulders. However, her eyes caught a glimpse of a hauntingly familiar face, and her body went deathly still against her husband’s. He understood immediately, looking around until he spotted the hunter among the throng of dancing drunkards.

Her sliver hair was impossible to miss, and her blue eyes seemed to glow - though Michael wasn't sure if that wasn't just a trick of the flashing lights in the club. He swore under his breath and pulled his mate by the arm to a door near the back of the club. They quickly slipped out into the frigid weather, immediately sprinting away from the club, thankful for their superhuman speed.

“I can’t believe that bitch found us,” Michael finally hissed. “Hasn’t she heard of a fucking holiday?”

Lindsay made a noise of agreement but didn’t offer much else. A few minutes later of frantic sprinting, she pulled the second vampire to a halt. “We need to split up, Michael. She can’t track both of us.”

The man shifted uncomfortably, hands wringing tightly. “I don’t know, Lindsay. We’re stronger together.”

“We’re both buzzed. We can’t fight right now. We need to get away.” Michael still hesitated, unwilling to let his wife take the chance. “Listen, you head south, I’ll go north. We’ll lose anyone who’s following us and then meet back at the apartment in an hour. Got it?”

Michael knew he wasn’t going to have a say in this. Lindsay was, after all, older and had much more experience. “Okay,” he finally whispered before pressing his lips fervently against hers. “You better make it back safely or I’ll kill you myself.”

She laughed, a low chuckle he had fallen in love with so long ago. “I love you, Michael. I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you, too, babe.”

And with that, he took off in the opposite direction of his wife, eyes stinging with the frozen temperatures and definitely not from the storm of emotions brewing inside his chest.

* * *

It had been three hours. The ball had dropped. The fireworks had been launched. The confetti had been released.

His wife hadn’t returned.

* * *

Two weeks later, Lindsay still hadn’t come back. Michael had tried looking for her, but he knew the ashes would be impossible to find in the newly fallen snow.

He locked himself up in the apartment, sleeping almost every hour of every day. He left twice to hunt but had only drunk enough to keep him alive. His strength was leaving his body quickly but he couldn’t find it in himself to give a shit.

His mate was dead. His wife was gone. He didn’t have a reason to keep living anymore.

But soon the misery was replaced with anger. The fire of rage burned deeply inside him. He let it consume him, warp him, mould him into a weapon.

He started doing research. He found out that there wasn’t a group of hunters in New York, just one. The one that killed Lindsay.

But when he dug further, he found out that the bitch wasn’t connected to any groups. She wasn’t even a hunter. In fact, she might not be human.

He needed help. He needed protection.

His stomach growled. _Fuck that, I need food_.

He laced up his shoes and headed outside.

* * *

Ray had been running with the pack for three years now.

Alpha and the pack had shown up the day after their confrontation just like they’d promised. He wasn’t as terrified during that meeting since he had passed almost all night in his canine form. They spent that weekend training, teaching Ray – _no, he was Rho now_ – how to track and hunt, how to follow the pack, how to signal that he needed help if they were separated. He learned more than ever about his animalistic side, and the moment he sank his teeth into the heart of his first kill, he felt complete. Horrified, of course, but complete.

The pack had yipped happily for him, glad that he was finally one of them. He shared the rest of the carcass, nudging the slaughtered deer toward them. They hungrily dug in, coating their muzzles in fresh blood. Ray barked back, tail wagging, front legs lifting off the ground slightly as he jumped up and down in excitement.

And the next three years had been so great. His mother finally had ungrounded him after three months. After that, he spent every waking moment with his pack. Some days they hung out as humans, playing video games or talking about absolutely nothing. Others, they hunted for hours before collapsing by a small lake in the woods. He became deeply entrenched in the pack mentality, often putting the guys before his own family.

At some point, his mom had had enough. On his eighteenth birthday, she told him that if he wasn’t going to university, she wasn’t going to continue to support him financially. So for the last year, he’d been crashing at different pack members’ apartments or shifting to his canine form and crashing with random families until they threatened to bring him to the pound. Food wasn’t a problem anymore – he just hunted as he needed.

But two weeks after the New Year, Alpha presented an ultimatum that would change his life.

“Rho, Theta, get your asses in here,” a gruff voice called from the kitchen. Ray and Theta were lounging on the couch, the former absolutely slaughtering the latter at the newest FPS. The two skinwalkers sighed and turned off the xbox before slinking into the other room. Delta and Epsilon were already seated at the table, dangerous smirks spreading across their faces. Ray felt nervous for the first time since meeting the pack.

The five sat in silence before Alpha finally spoke again. “2009 is going to be a good year, boys. Boss says he’s enacting the second phase of the plan.”

Three men gasped before high fiving and hurriedly throwing out ideas while Ray sat in dazed confusion.

“Uh, pardon me for asking, but I have no fucking idea what that means. Did I miss a memo or something?”

“Naïve little Rho,” Alpha practically purred. “Phase two is just the beginning of our take-over. Phase two is mass infection.”

Ray stood immediately, too furious to even begin to think of the consequences of refusing his pack leader’s wishes.

"No."

“What did you say, you little whelp?” Alpha growled, teeth bared. The other three men slowly rose, hands forming fists at their sides.

“I said no, you fucking piece of shit. You forced me into this life, and while I’ve adapted and enjoyed the last three years, I’m not forcing this on anyone else. You’re a fucking monster.” Ray’s voice was steadily growing louder and louder, his last words nearing a scream.

And it was over nearly as fast as it had started. Four sets of teeth found their way to his flesh, memories of the park three years ago overlaying the current pain flaring through his body. He quickly shifted to his canine form to match his pack mates, but he was too late. He tucked his tail and ran out the doggy door they’d had installed last year.

After running through the alleyways for a good twenty minutes, Ray felt his energy melt from his bones, the blood loss making him too dizzy to properly stand. He curled up behind a restaurant, hidden by several overflowing dumpsters. A pathetic whimper tore from his lips when he realised he was too injured to shift back to his human form and thus was unable to find proper medical attention.

His body felt heavy and he fought the losing battle to keep his eyes open. When he let them drift closed, he hoped that he would be greeted by the familiar blueish-white light he saw on his birthday several years ago.

Instead, he was met by darkness.

* * *

Michael’s hunt had gone better than he had hoped. He easily caught two rabbits and a small doe, drinking them dry.

He let himself take off in a full sprint toward the city, his surroundings blurring around him. Within minutes he was back downtown, slowing down to stroll down the block without raising any unnecessary suspicion.

He was two blocks away from his apartment when he heard a rather pitiful whine from the alley. He wanted to ignore it, wanted to pretend it was just the wind rushing past his ears or a creaking fire escape. But it happened again, a longer and more pained cry piercing Michael’s sensitive ears. He shook his head and sighed before turning into the alley and looking along the ground for the source of the moaning.

The scent of blood should’ve registered earlier, but due to his gorging on his hunt earlier, he simply hadn’t noticed. A large, shivering dog was hidden behind a row of dumpsters, coat matted with a mix of wet and drying blood. It was clear that the animal had no idea what was going on around it, miserable and unable to move.

Suddenly, he remembered the day Lindsay found him, broken and bleeding on the forest floor. He owed everything to her, to the woman who saved him despite knowing nothing about him. He obviously couldn’t turn this dog into a vampire to save it the way he’d been rescued, but he had learned a lot about animals through his various jobs throughout the years and from learning about the most humane way to kill them.

He wasn’t sure exactly how, but he was going to help this terrified pup. Thankful for his renewed strength, he lifted the large dog into his arms and set off for the nearest animal hospital.

* * *

Two days of waiting, ten hours of surgery, and thousands of dollars later, Michael was carrying a drugged up Bernese Mountain Dog out of the vet’s office. His pockets were weighed down with pills and but his spirits had been lifted simply by being around the fluffy mess.

In the few times that the animal had been conscious, he absolutely covered Michael’s face with slobbery kisses. The affection seemed to warm a part of the vampire’s heart that he hadn’t felt in a while.

Plus, once the dog finished healing, Michael reasoned, he wouldn't have to worry about the issue of protection anymore. He could just train this hefty beast to be a guard dog. Michael surely wouldn’t argue against having 125 pounds of brawn armed with sharp teeth and strong legs on his side.

Now all he had to do was wait for his canine companion to wake up.

* * *

The last two days had been a foggy mess. Ray didn’t know where he was or what had happened. For the second time in his life, he woke up despite honestly expecting that facet of his life to be over – well, to be fair, he had expected all facets of his life to be over.

His ears perked up as he heard the distinct sound of raw meat slapping against the floor. His nose sniffed the air cautiously, confirming his initial suspicion. He whined, high and throaty, eyes cracking open to help navigate himself to the delicious scent.

“Hey, boy,” a gentle voice cooed before a warm hand wound its way into the black fur behind his ears. “Glad to see you finally woke up. I know it’s not much, but there’s a steak on the floor for you in there.” The hand unwrapped itself from their furry prison to point towards another room in the tiny apartment.

Ray slowly lifted himself up, legs protesting carrying his weight so soon, but his stomach was practically screaming at him.

He ripped the steak apart in less than five seconds, feral growling filling the cramped space. When he looked back at the man who provided the meal, he was met with wide, golden eyes.

“Fuck my asshole. You’re more ferocious than I fucking thought. Are you going to kill me?” Fear seeped into his voice, colouring his words despite his desperation to keep his emotions in check.

Ray shook his head, slowly creeping up to the man before sitting down at his feet and nudging his nose under a shaking hand. He _woof_ ed happily, trying to signal to the man that it was safe to pet him. The man soon got the hint, fingers dancing across his skin, finding the spots that made Ray absolutely melt. Within five minutes, the skinwalker was spread out on the ground, feet helplessly flailing in the air as he wiggled on his back to expose more of his belly. The man laughed, a sweet, melodic noise that enshrouded them both.

“Guess it’s just you and me then, right, boy?”

Ray barked in agreement before covering his face in kisses again.

* * *

A week later, Ray had finally regained enough energy to change back to his human form. Despite receiving a bath from both the vet and the man who’d been taking care of him, the skinwalker was absolutely dying to take a shower. Also, he had been watching the man play video games all week and was itching to show him how it was _really_ done.

Still, he didn’t want to alarm his housemate, so when he felt the familiar iciness fill his stomach that night, he ignored it and curled up at the end of the man’s bed, quickly slipping into a deep sleep.

* * *

There was a man on his bed. Well, not a man, really. He was probably no more than twenty, though it was hard to tell with the patchy facial hair and the fact that his face was pressed into the bedspread. But god damn it, age didn’t matter when there was a fucking  _stranger_  in his apartment. Some fucking prick that hadn’t been there the night before was curled up on the end of the vampire’s bed like he fucking owned the place. Like he’d been living here for – Michael froze.

“Christ,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice low enough to avoid having to confront the Puerto Rican lying face down on his bed. Unfortunately, it seemed like the dog’s senses remained at least relatively heightened in this form, and he woke with a startle. His eyes met Michael’s, head tilting slightly in confusion, until he seemed to notice his new lack of… canine-esque features.

“Oh shit,” was all the boy could manage.

“Yeah. ‘Oh shit’ is right,” Michael growled. “You have ten fucking seconds to explain why I shouldn’t shove my foot so far up your ass that your dentist will be removing my toenails from your teeth.”

“I’m a skinwalker who got kicked out of his pack because I refused to go along with my pack leader’s crazy world domination scheme and I was peacefully dying in an alleyway until you decided to be Dr Doolittle and help patch me up and I guess I finally regained enough energy to transform back last night and I must’ve dreamt about it and voilà, here I fucking am. How was that on time, chief?”

Michael’s eyes narrowed in suspicion before his features softened. He stuck out one hand before mumbling, “It’s Michael Jones, not Dr Doolittle.”

“Ray Narvaez, Jr, not ‘boy’.”

Both guys chuckled before Michael turned to meet the boy’s gaze again. “Call of Duty?”

“You are so fucking on.”

* * *

Exactly a year after Michael found Ray in that alleyway, they decided to make their relationship official, transitioning seamlessly from 'roommates' to 'friends' to 'best fucking friends' to 'best fucking friends who fuck' and finally to 'boyfriends' (who obviously fuck and are best friends, in case you didn’t get that).

And they were happy. Of course they were happy.

Until November of 2014, when the boys were hunting in the forest a couple miles from the apartment. Until Michael’s past caught up to him again. Until they caught sight of metallic hair and glowing, blue eyes.

Until the angel-turned-vampire-hunter found him again.


	3. For Unto His Angels, He’s Given a Command to Guard You in All of Your Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavino Angst Free and Ryan I-Blame-Myself Haywood

Ryan’s fingers skated easily over the paper, letting the familiar rough sensation ground him. He hadn’t realised he had started shaking until he attempted to trace the most visited page of his journal. A deep breath made his chest swell, oxygen rushing in to calm his spinning head.

He wasn’t supposed to ever directly interfere. Sure, he was an angel. Angels protect humans. They were created to do so, even. But they weren’t supposed to hamper with someone’s life and death dates. That’s what demons did. Surely he wasn’t a demon. _And no wonder, for Satan himself masquerades as an angel of the light_ , he bitterly thought. Fucking St. Paul and his damn letters to the Corinthians. What did that asshole even know?

Either way, he still felt guilty. He had already messed up two death dates already: his wife’s and a random kid’s. A heavy weight settled onto his chest and suddenly he couldn’t draw in enough air. His vision blurred slightly as he forced himself to focus back on the next journal entry.

* * *

••○••○••○••

Entry #143

**Rakshasa**

Capabilities

• Shapeshifting, invisibility, enhanced senses, superhuman strength

Weaknesses

• Can’t enter houses without an invitation

• Can be killed by: a pure brass knife

Diet

• Human flesh

Encounters:

• Gavin David Free

••○••○••○••

* * *

Water was pulling him down, dragging him farther and farther away. Dan’s hand slipped from his fingertips, the cold grip of the waves replacing the warmth immediately. His lungs were burning, eyes stinging, legs kicking. Nothing he did would bring him back to the surface; struggling only sent him further from safety.

He tried to take in a sharp breath, water replacing the empty space in his chest. Violent coughing shook his entire body, and with his panicked gasping, he was quickly running out of oxygen. Through the murkiness of the sea, he couldn’t locate Dan. He screamed his name again and again, a high-pitched whining more than anything.

As he descended deeper, he felt his body grow weaker while the fire in his chest and throat only grew brighter. Finally, he succumbed to the darkness.

* * *

“Gavin? Gavin!” He dimly heard a voice calling his name, gradually growing louder and louder. The pattering of feet as they slammed into the sand bounced through his throbbing head. “Gavin! Where’s Dan?”

Gavin rolled over and began coughing up seawater, the sensation causing him to gag. The burning from earlier hadn’t really gone away yet, and he felt bone-chilling shivers despite the warm May sun.

“Where’s Daniel?” the voice repeated, a little more frantically. Unable to speak, Gavin raised a shaky hand in the direction of the crashing sea before passing out again.

* * *

Despite happening ten years ago, Gavin would still feel himself crumbling at the memory. Dan’s grandparents (whom they both lived with since Gavin’s parents didn’t want him after he turned six – that’s just how his kind worked) had taken the boys to the beach to celebrate Gav’s 16th birthday. It had been the best weekend of his life. But as per the laws of the universe, nothing can ever bloody be perfect, yeah?

Instead, he and his pseudo-brother had gone for a swim in the sea. It was definitely still too chilly to be comfortable, but they were always trying to outdo each other. They had made a bet on who could swim out farther: if Gavin lost, he would have to eat three pieces of wet bread; if Dan lost, he would have to let Gavin punch him as hard as he could and film it. Since the stakes were so high, they both ended up swimming out too far, momentarily forgetting that they would also have to swim _back_.

Once they were worn out and called a truce, they turned around and began feebly paddling back toward the shore. The sea, however, had different plans, and the waves picked up, an undercurrent sweeping them back away from the beach where Dan’s grandparents were beginning to realise that the two kids were missing. Dan desperately grasped the older boy’s hand and threw him over his shoulder, trying to paddle them both back to safety. Unfortunately, Gavin hadn’t quite recognised what was happening yet and thrashed wildly against the hold. The latter couldn’t handle it and immediately sunk, dragging Gavin down with him.

He remembered everything, every painful detail from the way his swimsuit had twisted around his legs so awkwardly to the way his hair swirled around him, plastering to his forehead the few times he managed to get his head back above the surface. He remembered waking up on the sandy shore, shivering and scared. He remembered the grief that lined Dan’s grandparents’ faces. He remembered realising he no longer really had a place in their household. He remembered packing his bags and leaving in the middle of the night. He remembered how loudly he screamed, how easily he shifted into the form of an unrecognisable monster and killed a group of campers in the woods, relishing in the animalistic drive that coursed through his body. He remembered the guilt he felt for somehow surviving while the boy who deserved life had perished instead.

When he dreamed, he remembered bright, icy blue eyes that lit up the depths of his tortured soul. He couldn’t place where he’d seen them or who they belonged to. He just knew that they were watching him, possibly protecting him. Those blue eyes cared about him more than anyone else ever had. He knew he needed to find the owner of those shining irises.

So after his initial grief-fuelled killing spree was over, Gavin joined a freak show in an attempt to start searching for those eyes. It was a stupid idea, one driven mostly by sheer terror and feral desire, but it was one of the few choices he had left. After all, in the span of one day, the lad effectively lost everything he’d ever known.

The freak show had started out as more of a temporary thing, but Gavin quickly found a place among the other abominations. He met sword swallowers, half-breeds, sirens, ghouls, almost everything he had heard of but never quite seen himself. His own act was highly attended by excited crowds everywhere in the UK. It was simple, nothing over the top, but it attracted a lot of attention, sometimes even putting him in danger by someone who decided to eradicate nature’s “errors.”

He would start in his natural form, hazel eyes shimmering and hair sticking up at funny angles. He’d slowly pass a hand over his body and allow the spectators to see him slowly transform to something else. He would sometimes try to tell a story through his shifts and sometimes he’d take suggestions from the audience.

And for ten years, they travelled Europe, entertaining anyone who was brave enough to come see the ragged group of monsters perform. For ten years, he chased blue eyes and dreamt of blue water and felt blue sadness engulf him as he struggled with the guilt that tugged incessantly at his mind.

* * *

Ryan had been keeping an eye on his siblings’ movements, so he wasn’t too surprised when he got the order from his Father. Apparently a group of archangels had decided to take matters into their own hands and were leading a rising rebellion. Unfortunately, though Ryan knew he was one of the most powerful angels in the legion, he also was quite aware that 1 vs. 9 would be a bit…  _challenging_ , especially once the others started gathering an army to do their bidding.

He paced his small apartment, mind racing furiously as he tried to put together a plan. He needed backup, but none of his siblings would exactly be running to his side to help. The angel wasn’t too well-received by the legion after his wife had made a deal with a demon in order to give him a permanent vessel. He was the only angel to ever have one, everyone else needing the explicit consent of a human in order to ride them around like some sort of fleshy puppet.

He had met his wife a while back, a beautiful woman with gorgeous, curled hair and a passion for life that he had never seen before. She was patient and kind and laughed like it was going out of style. They started dating shortly after, even after the man came clean about who (or what) he truly was. She was already religious, and the fact that she now knew that she’d fallen in love with an angel made her even more amazed by him.

However, a few years after they were married, his wife fell ill. She tried to convince him that it wasn’t bad, that she didn’t need him to heal her. After she received the news that it was actually cancer – stage four, too – she made him promise that he wouldn’t use his powers to save her. He promised but had fully intended on saving her regardless. He figures that’s what drove her out to that crossroad on 6 December, 1980.

It didn’t take some genius doctor with several fancy medical degrees to realise that she was rapidly wasting away. One night, he returned from taking out a particularly dangerous vampire nest only to find his wife missing from the house. After scanning the area for her essence, he found her at a crossroads, sealing a deal with a demon. In exchange for her (albeit short) life and pure soul, Ryan would get to create a vessel for himself, one that would never deteriorate or require permission. If his Father called upon him, the vessel would remain in a sleep-like state until he returned. He could still use all of his powers, could still teleport with no more than a thought, but it had cost him so dearly. He lost the one person who had meant the absolutely everything to him.

He knew that it was ultimately her choice and that he never really had a say in her decision. Still, the dark sting of disappointment in himself and hatred of the system gnawed at his heart, at times swallowing him whole. Her death weighed heavily on his mind. He figured he could never forgive himself at this point.

Shaking his head slowly, he tried to dislodge the memories of his wife from his mind. He had a new mission at hand – a new mission that he had no idea how to even begin to handle. After he had crossed his tiny room for what had to have been the thousandth time, his foot hit the leather journal he’d thrown on the ground when he’d been so suddenly summoned by his Father. It was still open to the Rakshasa’s page. A silky laugh spilled from his lips while a smile stretched across his face, pearly white teeth shining nearly as bright as his eyes.

_Hang in there, Gav. I’m coming for you again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooo sorry this one's so short. it just seemed like a good way to get myself back into the swing of things. i had a bit of a psychological breakdown this past week due to my mingy brain, but things are lookin' up. 
> 
> university is kicking my butt, but that's to be expected.
> 
> thank you to everyone who's been supporting me. you all are the best. i mean it. i would smooch you all consensually if i didn't mind the touch of other people.
> 
> <3


	4. Gavin D. Free, Metaphorical Captain of the Hypothetical RMS Titanic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please tell your dog of a mate not to kill my rabbit of a completely and totally 100% platonic no-homo partner.

Scanning the entire world for one trace of essence – and not even human essence, mind you – was tiresome. Sure, it probably took a grand total of 45 seconds, but Ryan still found himself having to sit down and take deep breaths to regain his strength.

From his quick scan, he knew Gavin was somewhere in England. He was too far away right now to pinpoint an exact location, and he would rather save his strength to teleport to the island where it would be easier to get specific coordinates. Closing his eyes, he listened to the chatter of his siblings. After thousands upon thousands of years, he had long since learned how to tune out the insistent conversations between the entire legion. Everyone seemed to talk at the exact same time, and sometimes Ryan wondered how anyone actually heard each other. After about five minutes, he hadn’t heard anything of interest and immediately shut off his communications.

Carefully, so extremely carefully, he exhaled and felt his body tear away from existence and hop across the ocean.

* * *

For the past month, Gavin had been having really strange dreams. Not the strange ones he’d had as a kid, the ones where dragons would show up and take him far away from his parents and make him their king (those ones were always top). Instead, these dreams involved five men he’d never met before. They were hazy in his mind, not quite coming into focus when he tried to study their faces. He recognised the blue eyes he’d been chasing for a decade, but there was another pair that swirled with clouded mischief. The other three were varying shades of brown: one pair was golden, another so dark they were almost purple, and the last held flecks of copper in their chestnut-tinged depths. They were beautiful and breath-taking, each set of eyes drawing a different emotion from him. But most importantly, they felt safe; they felt like home.

That made Gavin wake with a start every time. He couldn’t remember the last time he really felt like he was home. Sure, he’d made a home with Dan – his chest thumped painfully at the reminder – but he never felt _at home_. He was always a visitor, never quite understanding where he stood with the boy’s grandparents. So why did ten glassy orbs make a bloody difference?

But the dream kept coming back night after night. He heard murmurs and whispers, words that calmed him and soothed his worried mind, but upon waking, he couldn’t remember what they said. Last night he had woken with the words _I love you_ hanging haphazardly from his lips. _Love?_ _I don’t think I’m even able to feel love, a right monster I am. Someone’s having a bloody laugh._

“Is there a djinn out there? Maybe a mara? I’m bloody sick of these god damn dreams!” he shouted into the darkness. An owl hooted outside his window, but the rest of the world remained still around him.

Knowing he wouldn’t get back to sleep any time soon, the Brit cracked open his window, inhaling the sharp night air. It was January, not one of his favourite months, but spring was on its way, so he figured he could be patient. He clasped the sides of the window and brought his feet up to rest on the sill before allowing his body to morph into his favourite form (other than his real one, of course). Wings unfurled and his razor-sharp beak formed in front of his eyes. He felt the familiar shrink of his body, folding down until it was no larger than a human thumb. Florescent blue of his feathers glinted against the darkness of the night. The tiny hummingbird chirped happily before flapping wildly and taking off into the starlit sky.

After a couple minutes of fooling around and doing aerial tricks, Gavin felt his tiny tummy begin to rumble. The last time he’d been out, there had been a blooming garden near his home, but he knew that in the brisk winter chill, those flowers would never have lasted even a week. Still, his stomach continued to grumble uncomfortably, so he sighed and started to dive towards the ground.

The usual ripple of warmth filled his bones as he felt four sure paws touch the earth the second before impact. He growled with excitement, wild mane whipping in the frosty wind. His tail flicked behind him as his nails dug into the frozen ground. A scent captured his attention, and just beyond the treeline, he saw two deer happily munching on some grass. His pace quickened, muscles flowing under his taut skin. But as he closed the gap between himself and his soon-to-be prey, he heard a voice call his name. That voice, though he had no idea who it belonged to, sounded so ungodly familiar. It was sweet and thick like the richest honey he’d ever tasted, but it still held a lightness that was more pleasant that even the fluffiest clouds. Somehow, despite never having heard that voice, he _knew_ it, knew he _needed_ it.

“Gavin,” the voice repeated, a man flashing suddenly in front of him, eyes pressed closed and hands held out in front of him in a protective stance. “Please stop for second, Gav.”

Gavin slowed immediately, settling back onto his rear haunches, head tilted to the side. This man obviously knew who he was despite not being in his natural form. I mean, sure, he was one of the few rakshasas in the area, and lions aren’t exactly common in the English countryside, but this man knew where to find him, what he was, what his name was. What else did he know? And how?

“Would you be willing to shift back to your natural form so we can talk?” the silky voice asked him, tenderly wrapping around his ears and sending shivers down his back. Gavin only nodded, completely at a loss for words (though he would vehemently argue that his lack of response was simply due to the fact that _animals can’t bloody well talk, can they?_ but let’s be honest, we all know the truth).

With his ratty converse planted firmly on the ground and hands crossed against his chest, Gavin allowed himself to raise one eyebrow and cough lightly. The guy across from him still had his eyes closed tightly and the Brit was unsure if it was because the stranger (who wasn’t quite a stranger for some unknown reason) wanted to give him some dignity as if he were changing his bloody trousers or if there was something actually wrong with him.

“Look, you made a right well dog’s dinner of my plans tonight. You owe me some sort of explanation for letting my meal run away, you know?”

“Gavin, I never thought I’d have to ask you for this, but…” the sweet rumble was cut short by hesitation. The guy shifted uncomfortably before sighing and rubbing his face. “Gav, I really need your help.”

“Why would I want to help you? I don’t even know yo—“ the man let his hands drop from his face and his eyes crack open, an icy blue lightness flooding every corner of Gavin’s soul immediately. Suddenly, his mind provided the image of an insurmountable iceberg and a top-of-the-line ship colliding. He almost laughed, the metaphor of the _Titanic_ filling his head so completely that he was lost in the thought, and suddenly he was on the legendary ship itself, thrown carelessly into the frozen waves below. He was gasping for air, and before long he was definitely drowning. And God, did he want to drown. He wanted to sink into those beautiful blue depths and never breathe another molecule of oxygen for the rest of his pathetic life. _Women and children first, save everyone but me_. “Oh, bugger my ass, it’s finally you. What took you so damn long?”

* * *

After Ryan had made his proper introductions, including a quick run-down of who he was, what he was, and what he could do, he started to recount how he met Gavin in the first place.

“Gavin, I’m the reason Dan’s dead.” The lad stilled instantaneously, sheer terror clear as day on his face. “No, not like that. I saw you both drowning and I couldn’t let you both die. I’d been studying you – it’s not often that you come across a young rakshasa. So, like a creep, I’d been following you since you were about four. I had to do something, anything. It wasn’t your time to die.”

The Brit was silent for a minute.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Gavin. But you had to know the truth. I pulled you out of the water but I couldn’t get to Dan in time. I’m the reason Dan’s dead.”

“No,” Gavin stated resolutely. “No, Rye, you’re the reason I’m alive. You didn’t cause the undercurrent. You didn’t make the stupid bet. You didn’t call your brother a pussy and continue to swim out farther than you knew you could handle. You saved me, despite my bloody minging brain. Thank you.” He cautiously wrapped two trembling arms around the angel’s neck. The older man gently grabbed the younger’s head and held it reassuringly against his broad chest, cooing soft comforts to still the frantic shaking.

“For you, Gav? Anything.”

* * *

Once the angel finished briefing the rakshasa on the mission at hand, he readily agreed. Ryan was nervous that the other man was simply accepting the job because he felt like he owed him something for saving his life all those years ago, but Gavin had repeatedly tried to assure him that that wasn’t the case.

They stayed up all night talking until the hunger that had been steadily growing in Gav’s stomach became too pressing. He hadn’t eaten in a couple weeks, and he could feel his typically hyperactive senses dulling. Ryan must’ve noticed because within a couple minutes, he held out his arm in front of the lad’s twitching nose.

Gavin inhaled deeply, a calming scent of cinnamon and vanilla filling his lungs in the most pleasurable way. He wanted to both engulf and be engulfed by that scent. He wanted his entire life to be infused with that sickeningly saccharine mixture. Licking his lips, he heard his stomach growl again. Reassuring eyes glanced down at him, nodding when he began to open his mouth.

Slowly, so incredibly and painfully slowly, he settled his teeth against Ryan’s perfectly warm skin. It was all even more vivid and incredibly overwhelming. He felt his canines lengthen and pierce the pale flesh, the other teeth soon following suit. The angel whimpered softly but made no other moves or sounds despite the pain he no doubt was experiencing. The Brit took two or three greedy bites before finally drawing back. Suddenly full, he swiped his tongue over his now blood-stained teeth.

Horror flooded over his face as he realised what he just did. He literally just tried to eat the guy who saved his life, the guy he’d unknowingly been waiting ten years to meet. Like a goddamned animal, he had gnawed several decent chunks out of the bloke’s arm. And the angel hadn’t even made the slightest sign of protestation – even seemed to encourage it, oddly enough.

The Brit suddenly felt dizzy, too dizzy, and couldn’t focus on the world tumbling around him. Two hands found his shoulders and held him still. A shaking breath passed out his nose and he opened the eyes he hadn’t realised he’d slammed shut in his frantic daze. He looked down at the fingers firmly holding him down, followed them to the attached hands, the wrists, the arms – the perfectly smooth, perfectly porcelain arms that held just the right amount of muscular definition to be attractive without being scary. Those perfect arms that, until a few seconds ago, had a few gnarly pieces of flesh rudely and violently removed.

“I told you that I’d heal. You were hungry, I have flesh. One of the perks of having a permanent human vessel. Yeah, my powers will be a little weakened for a while, but you needed it more than I did. It’s okay, Gav. You’re okay. Breathe.”

Shivering, the younger man inhaled deeply, once again taking in the unbelievably delicious fragrance before curling against his chest and falling into the familiar dream.

* * *

“Sh-sh-she’s a wh-wh-what?” Ray sputtered, chocolate brown eyes flying open wide as his boyfriend sat across the table, tapping nervously at the stack of papers he’d scribbled all over.

“I said, sh-sh-she’s a fucking a-a-angel, Ray. A rogue goddamned angel. And she’s the one who fucking killed Lindsay. And now the bitch is back. And if I’m right, which I always fucking am, by the way, the whore is probably going to go after you next, since that seems to be her fucked up M.O.”

Ray whimpered softly, suddenly afraid of what might happen to him. He had never really been one for believing in the supernatural, but due to his… incident almost ten years ago, he didn’t have much of a choice anymore. Still, the idea of angels and demons seemed impossible. His grandparents had been super religious, sure, but he had never really subscribed to those beliefs himself. But Michael sounded so confident, and he knew that the man would never lie to him. They were a pack. They stuck together and put each other above anything else.

That thought actually helped comfort him some. Michael put him above anything else which meant that he would fight tooth and nail to keep the skinwalker safe.

“Okay, she’s an angel. What are we gonna do, dude?”

The vampire grunted in response before resting his aching head in his hands. “I don’t know, man. I just heard from a nest a couple towns over that she broke in and killed at least twelve of their people. That was a peaceful hive, too. Only drank from animals and faithful slaves. They never so much as glanced at a civilian.”

Swirling amber met speckled brown. The younger man swallowed roughly before speaking slowly. “I have an idea…”

* * *

“Ryan, why are we in the States, Ryan?” the Brit whinged, hand hanging limply under the firm hold the angel had on his wrist.

“Because you promised me that you’d help me track down the rebels, Gavin, and the weakest target is here in New York. Unless you want to go straight for the head of the operation…?” he paused briefly to arch an eyebrow quizzically at the younger man.

“Nah, I just haven’t ever been on this side of the ocean s’all. And the whole teleportation this is bloody disorienting, innit? Jetlag must be even more of a bitch when you travel instantly.”

“Jetlag?” the elder asked, voice low but gentle.

“Right, forgot you don’t need to sleep. Bloody robot.” Gavin chuckled and let a lazy grin sit on his lips. Ryan stared back sweetly, emotions unrecognisable behind the faint glow of his irises.

They both snapped out of it when they heard rustling in the shrubs about an eighth of a mile east of them. Their senses were both at their peak, instantly honing in on the possible intrusion coming their way.

Ryan tilted his head toward the noise, motioning for Gavin to follow him. He lifted two fists, pressing the palm-side of his together, the knuckles of one hand along the thumb of the other, with his index fingers folded over but sticking out farther than the others. A quick twist of his hands signalled to Gavin that he was using sign language. _Change_ , he had commanded, before suddenly disappearing himself. The Brit wondered when the angel had had time to pick up British Sign Language, much less figure out that he himself knew it. However, another bout of crackling in the distance prompted him to push the thoughts from his mind and shift to a less threatening form.

He felt his ears stick up straight, a fluffy pouf sprouting at the base of his spine. A twitching nose sniffed nervously at the air as he took one light hop, followed by a more sure-footed bound.

The angel appeared momentarily, a soft chuckle clumsily falling out. “You’re pretty fucking cute like that, little bunny.”

Gavin opened his mouth to fling back some choice words but found that he was once again without words (except this time he could actually argue that it was due to his distinct lack of human larynx). Instead, he settled for angrily thumping his back leg against the ground a few times and springing away without another glance. Ryan sighed, still humoured by the rakshasa’s newest form, and disappeared into the air once again.

* * *

“What is it, dude? What do you smell? Is it the winged bitch?” Michael prompted when he noticed Ray go stiff. The raven fur on his neck was raised, a growl rumbling deep in his throat.

Suddenly, the Bernese bounded away from the vampire, the scent of something unusual driving him farther into the woods. His boyfriend chased after him, worried about letting him go off alone, especially when they were out looking for signs of the rogue angel. He nearly tripped over the dog who had frozen near a patch of tall grass, sharp teeth bared and glinting ferociously in the mottled sunlight.

Through a small break in the grass, Michael saw a tiny rabbit. He started laughing, bent over and slapping his thigh. A hand pat Ray’s head playfully as he gasped between waves of hooting laughter.

“I knew you were a dog, Ray, but I didn’t know you actually fucking acted like one! It’s just a little bunny-wunny!” He paused to catch his breath as he wiped away some of the moisture that had collected at the corner of his eye. “Oh god, and here I thought you were on the path of that halo-hooped whore.”

“You’re after the rogue angel then, too?” a deep voice rang out from behind them, nearly causing Michael to jump into the tree limbs hanging overhead. He whipped around, silently berating himself for not noticing someone approaching him. A fairly tall man with dark blonde hair leant casually against a nearby trunk. The vampire crouched low, fangs and claws drawn, ready to attack the second he was threatened.

“Seems like we might have more of a chance now, Rye-bread,” a sickeningly British voice tittered from the other side. Michael once again spun around, seeing another man kneeling on the ground, scratching affectionately behind Ray’s ears. Ray’s tail had started to wag happily and his hackles had settled back down. “Your little skinwalker is right well friendly, innit he? Didn’t expect him to hate rabbits so bloody much, though.” The dog woofed what the Brit assumed was a sort of _Thank you_.

“God fucking damn it, dog. You’d trust Satan himself if he handed you a fucking Snausage,” the auburn-haired man grumbled. He turned to the side so he could see both of the strangers at the same time. “Yeah, we’re hunting the angel. She killed my first mate and now I think she’s after Ray here,” he tilted his head towards the dog who had just flopped over onto his back and started kicking a leg in response to Gavin’s fingernails scratching _riiiight there_.

“We’re after her, too,” Ryan finally remarked after laughing at Gavin and Ray. “Father’s orders. Only, she’s unfortunately part of a larger operation and Gav and I simply don’t have the numbers to take them all down.”

“How is that possible? I checked every source I have. She’s not connected to any one. Doesn’t even have a fucking cell phone. Who does she think she is? It’s 2015, not the Civil War, for gods sakes.”

“We don’t need cell phones to stay in touch,” the angel replied smoothly, eyes flashing blue while tapping a finger against his temple when he saw the vampire starting to open his mouth to ask what he meant. “Angels can talk to each other without words. It’s damn annoying, but I can at least keep tabs on some of their operations.”

Two distinct barks distracted them from their conversation. Michael glanced down at Ray only to see him rolling around on the ground with an obnoxiously fluffy Old English Sheepdog. The angel seemed to find this way too endearing, soon walking over to join the dogpile. The Sheepdog pressed two solid paws against his sturdy chest before forcing him down to the ground to coat his face in slobbery kisses. Ray felt left out so he quickly tackled Michael and gave him the same treatment. After receiving a few breathy chuckles and half a dozen soft smooches to his forehead, the Bernese hurried back over to the Sheepdog to bark expectantly at his new playmate.

The golden-haired man carefully sat up, wiping some of the slime from his face with his left hand while he offered the right to the vampire. “I’m Ryan, by the way. Ryan Haywood. The rakshasa’s my partner-in-crime. Name’s Gavin Free. Annoying little British twink.” The last comment earned him a sharp, warning snarl from the Sheepdog.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Michael Jones,” he said, a bit uncertainly. This guy was one of the enemy, should he really be trusting him so easily? Still, he seemed like he was being honest. Plus, he was rather attractive, though Michael was fast to shove those thoughts far, far away. “Skinwalker’s my mate. Ray Narvaez, Jr.”

Ryan whistled at the white and grey dog before quickly tapping his thumbs twice against his chest, hands loose and flat, palms angled slightly in and down. _Ready?_

Gavin rose to his feet, carding slender fingers through his unruly hair. “Sure thing, Rye. Where to next?”

Ray stood up next, dusting some of the grass off his jeans. “We can go back to our place, right, Michael?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, dude. But it’s a little bit of a walk from here. Don't know if these bustas could handle it.”

“Don’t worry about that, my little Michael. We’ve got our very own handy-dandy Haywood Airlines!”

And with a cheeky little wink, they disappeared from the little forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is another chapter. please enjoy it. i am shipping trash and also i'm tired. someone please send me 1455245888 tonnes of tapioca pudding and sing disgustingly sweet lullabies to me. i'll love you forever.


	5. Ooooh, Just the Two (or Four or Six) of Us, We Can Make It If We Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, the group is made whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo, life's rough as shit. working on another fic but it's slow as dicks. as is this one, apparently.
> 
> lemme know if you've got questions or anything.
> 
> i love hearing from you. <3

The next month was a blur of research, stalking, and the awkward kindling of friendships.

Ray and Michael kept to their New York apartment while Gavin had taken up residency in Ryan’s house in some cutesy little town in Georgia. Mostly the angel and the rakshasa spent their days with the northeastern couple, only sneaking away at nights to give them some privacy in case they decided to partake in a few _personal_ activities. Since Gavin still fed from Ryan and was just as embarrassed as the first night, he often begged the angel to take them back to their home – Ryan idly wondered when it had transitioned from _his_ to _theirs_ and how it had happened so effortlessly – so that the other two men didn’t witness the brutality. The oldest man’s teleportation skills had also allowed him to break into blood banks all over the world to steal clean human blood without raising any flags. The vampire was ecstatic; human blood made him much stronger than animal blood ever could and he didn’t have to worry about the ethics of it all since the blood _had_ been willingly donated, after all. Every once in a while, Ryan was even able to snag a real human heart from a science lab or a teaching hospital for Ray, though that was more for preferred taste than strengthened powers. Still, the sentiment wasn’t lost on the skinwalker, and the couple quickly welcomed the ragtag team.

Their days were filled with easy chatter between the four, the sporadic wresting between the two capable of canine forms, and the occasional stakeout. They had tracked down the rebel angel relatively easily but hadn’t yet determined the best way to eliminate her. Ryan had begun the arduous task of translating his journal into English for the other three men. However, during their nights alone – since Gavin only needed about an hour or two of sleep when properly fed and Ryan required none – Gavin asked the blond to teach him his ancient tongue. It was a slow process since the Brit seemed to get distracted often, gazing into Ryan’s eyes more often than not, but when he actually focused, the lessons passed quickly and before they realised it, the rakshasa could read the journal fluently.

And though he was loath to admit it, hearing the lad rattle off his native tongue so smoothly made the angel’s chest ignite with something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. The last time he felt this way, he’d asked his then-girlfriend to marry him. He’d been afraid of her finding out what he was, terrified that she would connect the dots and realise that perhaps he’d used his stupid matchmaking abilities to get her to like him – which, if he were being completely honest, the thought had definitely crossed his mind a couple times.

Is that what he was doing now? It was obvious that Gavin tried his damnedest to help Ryan out when he could. Hell, he’d spent two days of solid research to figure out the best way to properly sigil the New York apartment to keep not only Ryan but also the other two men safe from various creatures that go bump in the night (well, not including them, of course). When the gent was sinking into a dangerous place in his head, the lad would do everything in his power to cheer him up, often pulling off ridiculous shenanigans that would end up getting himself hurt or – Ryan’s favourite – shifting into his closest approximation of Michael or Ray and doing the shittiest impressions of them he could muster up.

And the longer Ryan thought about it, the more it seemed to frustrate him. Gavin was so obnoxiously clumsy and at times downright insufferable. His constant stream of _What if?_ questions were enough to drive the angel to the brink of insanity more times than he’d care to admit. Still, there was a patient kindness, an earnest longing to be accepted and to please those he cared about. But he wasn’t making any moves, other than being sickeningly sweet at times or throwing out quick-witted flirtations that often left Ryan biting his lip to stifle a deep groan.

He needed Gavin to return his affections, but he needed to do it naturally. Even if it took a long time.

Ryan didn’t mind, though. He had eternity to wait.

* * *

The four men found themselves scoping out a sprawling forest in Massachusetts. Gavin had shifted to his favourite type of eagle – the Golden Eagle – to allow himself both speed and protection should he need it immediately. Ryan was invisible as he usually was during these outings. The rusty patches of Ray’s coat shimmered like copper in the evening light, and Michael’s fingers kept finding different reasons to tangle into its silky depths.

It wasn’t long before the men realised that something was wrong. It started when Gavin had to fight against random pockets of turbulent air to stay in flight. He eventually grew too frustrated with it and shifted into the Old English Sheepdog to keep Ray some company in his four-legged form. As the guys continued their walk through the forest, the trees began to twist menacingly, their inhabitants chittering nervously. The colours around them started to blend in strange patterns, and it wasn’t long before the grass had been soaked in an orange and red plaid and the leaves were shaking their purple polka dots in the inconsistent breeze.

Ryan caught on before the others. He remembered this kind of reality shift before. He reappeared and opened his mouth to call out to the others, but all that poured out was some unrecognisable language. Gavin was more than confused, since he had taken the time to learn Ryan’s native tongue, so it clearly wasn’t that. And more obviously, it wasn't English, not even Gavin-ese. The look of panic on the angel’s face clued him in to the face that he wasn’t crazy – their environment was being manipulated in some way. The blond seemed deep in thought as he studied the rakshasa before abruptly recalling their method of communication for when Gavin was in a non-verbal form.

The gent brought one hand up, fingers flat and thumb curved against his palm, and carefully tapped his hand twice against his forehead, almost in a mock salute. _Danger_.

The Sheepdog nodded and gently grabbed the back of Michael’s jacket to pull both him and his mate to a stop. He tried to shake some of the fringe out of his eyes before turning his gaze back to the angel and cocking his head in an unspoken question. Ryan glanced around quickly before raising a single fist to eye level, thumb sticking out slightly. He traced the curve of his jaw without touching it, before extending his index finger to point upwards toward his mouth, before slightly lifting it to his nose and letting it complete a clockwise loop while his left hand completed one in the opposite direction near his chest. _Trickster. Can’t talk._

Gavin barked once to signify that he understood before lying down patiently to let Ryan deal with the situation. It was alarmingly clear that Michael and Ray had no idea what was going on and were starting to freak out slightly (Michael would maintain that he wasn’t freaking out, he was just a little out of breath from walking so long and, hey, his allergies have always been shit anyway, so back off). The world around them continued to twist, the dogs suddenly gaining several more limbs and heads while Michael found himself surrounded by what had to have been a thousand twinkling stars that seemed to be speaking to him. Ryan just cracked his knuckles and chuckled before closing his eyes and getting to work.

* * *

Somewhere nearby, an ancient demigod and an old-as-balls witch were hiding in a bush and giggling like children. They watched with absolute glee as the vampire seemed to become increasingly more confused with each tweak of reality. The loss of language had been a nice touch, Jack commented, and Geoff bit a curled knuckle to try to contain his roaring laughter.

Suddenly, though, an intense blizzard picked up around the couple. It wasn’t weird that it would be snowing at this time of the year, necessarily, just that it had happened so unexpectedly and was very clearly localized to their exact position. Then the snow transformed to black sludge, a nasty stench smothering them and leaving them desperate for clean air. Finally the sludge stopped, dissolving away before thousands of pieces of candy began relentlessly pelting them.

Geoff realized that he had been caught at that point. He wasn’t sure by who – or what for that matter – but he snapped his fingers and allowed reality to bleed back into its true state. He grabbed the witch’s hand (but not before tucking a ridiculous assortment of candy into his boyfriend’s bottomless bag) and walked out of the shrubs to meet the creature who was willing to engage in his trickster warfare.

The moustached man took a large bite out of his newly-gained chocolate bar, humming at the sugary rush he felt in his veins. Ever since mass-produced sweets had become a thing, Geoff’s diet –and thus, powers – had been constant and unfailing. If he weren’t such a powerful being, Jack would be worried about more human-bound diseases like obesity and diabetes. Luckily, though, the trickster didn’t need to be wary of any of those ailments, and quickly became more powerful than he’d ever been.

But now they were met with two dogs, a vampire, and another creature that they couldn’t quite sense. There was definitely magic, and the man carried himself with confidence and strength. Upon the two troublemakers emerging from the foliage, the English Sheepdog cautiously took its place in front of the unidentifiable creature, seemingly intent on protecting him from the strangers.

Jack laughed and dropped to his knees, offering outstretched hands to the shaggy white dog. Geoff snapped his fingers and teleported to the blond, cordially extending a tattooed hand.

“Shit, dude. In almost eight hundred years, no one has ever played back. That was fuckin’ fun as dicks, man. The candy was a goddamned beautiful touch, too.”

“Thanks. I wasn’t sure if you were benevolent or belligerent so I decided to cover both my bases. Gave you a variety, as well.”

“I’m Geoff Ramsey. Oh, and this here is Jack Pattillo.” The trickster gestured towards the bearded man at his side, a soft smile crinkling his tired eyes. “Best goddamned natural witch I’ve ever had the pleasure to know – biblically, too, if you catch my drift.”

“Hey!” Jack squeaked while throwing a well-placed elbow into Geoff’s ribs.

Gavin let his body unravel as he reached his full height. “I’m Gavin Free, rakshasa and Britain’s Sexiest Man Alive,” he cooed with a wink in Ryan’s direction. “My partner here is Ryan Haywood. I know him biblically, though unfortunately not in the good way. Bloody wanker’s an angel. Right-hand chap of the Big Man upstairs.”

“Shit, so that’s how you were able to play. Sweet, dude,” Geoff chuckled, eying Ryan closely before turning to the two men he’d yet to hear speak. “What about you assholes?”

Ray tugged fiercely at the coldness in his stomach as he popped back up in his human form. “Ray No-Middle-Name Narvaez, Jr here. My mate here is Michael Vincent I-Enjoy-Sucking-More-Than-Just-Blood Jones. We’re teaming up with those two losers to take out some angelic rebellion that’s encroaching on our territory a little too quickly.”

Jack nodded quietly and locked eyes with the trickster, a silent conversation passing between them. The witch’s irises seemed to be swirling with purple despite their obviously brown appearance. Probably some sort of magical side-effect, Gavin reasoned. After they seemed to reach a wordless agreement, the bearded man opened his mouth a few times before finally getting his words out.

“Could you use two more pairs of hands? Geoffrey and I might be a little… _unorthodox_ … but we can definitely be of help!”

Ryan and Gavin launched into a foreign conversation, words that hung in the air like millennia of dust. Ray and Michael were quick to recognise the language and let the two have their private discussion while speaking in their own hushed tones about the pros and cons of adding two more strangers to their hunt.

In the end, though, it was decided that six was even better than four, and since the trickster was also able to teleport away to his own nightly abode, there weren’t many downsides to having the two men join.

* * *

After the first week of the six of them spending their days together, Gavin found himself sprawled across the couch in their Georgian home, head resting lightly on Ryan’s lap. The angel’s fingers were carding lightly through the lad’s messy locks, emotion burning furiously inside his chest. The rakshasa felt his eyelids drooping but was determined not to let himself fall asleep before completing his quest for the night. His eyes popped open, heart-stopping hazel immediately meeting saccharine sapphire.

“Rye,” he began, the name more of a purr than an actual word.

“Mmhmm?” the other man hummed back softly, eyes searching the others’ for some sort of sign as to where this conversation was headed.

“We’ve known each other for over a month now, yeah? And we’re already partners in crime and all that.”

“Duh, Team Love n Stuff, idiot.”

The corners of their mouths curled simultaneously at the ridiculous team name Gavin had come up with this past week (and that Ryan had surprisingly taken a shining to, much to the Brit’s amusement).

“Well, I was just thinking –“

“You should be careful about that, Gav. You might hurt yourself doing that.”

The lad stuck his tongue out playfully before remembering that he had promised to get through this awkwardness in his head tonight, no excuses.

“Rye-bread, seriously. I was bloody thinking about how the other guys, Ray and Michael, Jack and Geoff, well, they’re _things_ you know? Like, yeah, they’re teamed up like we are, but they’re also _involved_. And maybe I’m a right mong to suggest this, and I’m gonna end up mingin’ up whatever we’ve got going on here, but I think we should try it, too. You can say no, of course, since it’s a two-way street. And I know it won’t be easy, since I know you still feel guilty about your wife and I still have my issues about Dan. But I think it could be bloody good for us and I’d like to give it a well right try, yeah?”

Ryan stared almost blankly at Gavin as he rambled on. He honestly didn’t know what to say. He’d been hoping that something like this would happen between them, but he was still so terrified that it was only due to his stupid Cupid-esque abilities.

“Do you mean it, Gav? I’m not easy to be with. Are you sure this is you talking and not some external force?”

The Brit furrowed his eyebrows, crinkles exaggerated from his horizontal position on the couch, before recognition relaxed his features. “Ryan, yes, Ryan. It’s me, not your bloody matchmaking powers or whatever. I’ve never once felt compelled or like my feelings weren’t my own. It’s just me. So, what do you say, Rye-bread?”

“I, uh, I,” he stuttered, words failing him again. He took a deep breath to calm himself before leaning down to kiss the lad’s forehead. “Of course, Gavin. I’d love to.”

The most breath-taking smile split across the younger man’s face. “Thank you, Rye. You’re the bloody best.” He sighed contentedly before his eyes creased with a hint of anxiety. “Ryan, can you stay with me while I sleep, Ryan?”

Ryan chuckled softly before nodding.

“Thanks again, Rye.”

“For you, Gav? Anything.”

 


	6. Maybe We Can Sleep in, Make You Chocolate Chip Pancakes, Pretend Like It's the Weekend Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> christ, i'm sorry i've been gone for so long. life is hard and i'm a big wimp.
> 
> my apologies for this being so short. i'll start working on it now that i have a lil more time and a lil less mental garbage
> 
> hit me up at [my tumblr](http://www.luchemuffin.tumblr.com) and give me headcannons. give me stuff to write. i'm begging you.

“Okay, but seriously, you would choose Bulbasaur over Charmander, dude?” the vampire choked out, not able to hear the garbage his boyfriend was spewing.

“Well, as you’re quite aware, I am a huge fan of smoking dat herb, so…”

“Ray, you’ve never smoked once in your pathetically short life. In fact, you don’t even drink, which I still don’t understand. One hangover isn’t going to change your miserable existence.”

The skinwalker shook his head sadly. “Look, it wasn’t the hangover that got me. It was just the whole night surrounding it. I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” His face was wrinkled in discomfort and the sadness was clearly visible in his slouched shoulders.

Michael paused before mumbling an apology and sliding his arm around his mate and pressing a chaste kiss against his temple.

Seconds later, two men appeared out of nowhere. One was laughing hysterically while the other fell on his butt with a yelp.

“For the last fucking time, Geoffrey, you’ve _gotta_ warn me before you do that kind of shit!” Jack growled, rubbing his sore bottom. “I swear, if you weren’t four hundred years older than me, I’d beat your ass so thoroughly, I swear on all that’s holy.”

“Don’t worry, darlin’. You can do other things to my ass tonight,” the trickster drawled with an obnoxiously dramatic wink in the witch’s direction.

Ray’s giggling (and Michael’s retching) drew their attention back to the couple whose house they had so abruptly intruded.

“What’s up?” Ray finally managed through snorts.

“Well, we’re here to start going over today’s plan,” Jack began. “Honestly, we would’ve been here earlier but _someone_ refused to get out of bed today until he had 21 chocolate chip pancakes.” If looks could kill, Michael was positive that Geoff would be dead (well, honestly Jack would’ve killed him a long, long time ago but that’s not the point right now).

“Hey, man. I’m a growing boy. I need my strength to do what I do best.”

“Geoff, you’re literally over seven hundred years old. I don’t really think you qualify as a ‘growing boy’ anymore,” the bearded man sneered before turning back to the two guys on the couch. “All that aside, we’re here and ready to start working. Where are Gav and Ryan?”

Michael checked his phone and shrugged. “Not sure. Gav texted me at 3 this morning to say that they’d be late. No explanation or nothin’. I mean, not that I need one. I’m not their fuckin’ mother.”

Ray yawned and stretched out on the couch, gently resting his head in the vampire’s lap. “Well, as long as we’re waiting for them, we might as well get comfortable, yeah?”

The older lad scoffed before threading his fingers through his mate’s hair and snuggling back down onto the couch. “Geoff, Jack, I think my boy’s got a point.”

* * *

Around 4 o’clock, two more bodies appeared in the New York apartment. Glancing around, the Brit and his angelic guide were slightly surprised to find a pile of three men and a dog sprawled across numerous pillows and blankets on the living room floor.

“Are we interrupting something here, then?” Gavin remarked with an amused smirk.

 Ray woofed happily while his mate scowled and groaned.

“No,” the vampire growled. “We were just waiting for an angel and his twink to finally get their supernatural asses over here. Seriously, what the fuck were you two doing?”

The rakshasa coughed into his fist and shifted uncomfortably while Ryan turned a nearly impossible shade of crimson.

“We were simply discussing something personal,” the eldest replied. “It’s none of your concern. Either way, we’re here now and ready to get down to business.”

“I bet that’s not the only business they’ve been getting down to,” a now-shifted Ray muttered before sitting up and sliding out from underneath a snoring Jack.

Michael kicked Geoff in the ribs before throwing a pillow at the witch. “Get the fuck up, you lazy assholes. It’s time to strategize and shit.”

The trickster cursed under his breath before snapping his fingers and sending his partner flying through the air. The ginger-haired man screamed before he collided with the couch and fell onto the cushions.

“A simple ‘Hiya, Jack, my dear love, perhaps you would like to be awake now?’ really wouldn’t’ve killed you, Geoffrey.”

Geoff only responded with a grunt that was followed by silence.

Michael wasn’t going to sit around with his thumb up his ass anymore though, so he spoke up first.

“Now that everyone is awake and present, can we talk about how we’re gonna catch this fucking whore?”

* * *

The plan was fairly simple as far as Ray was concerned. He didn’t appreciate the fact that he and Gavin were being used as bait, but he knew that his sense of smell probably wasn’t going to be helping out much beyond tracking. He and Gavin, who had returned to his favourite canine form, to aid in finding the scent, had picked up a trail about an hour ago. It appeared as if the rogue angel hadn’t been teleporting too often which the six men had hoped meant that she was too injured or worn out to properly use her powers.

So now he sat next to Michael middle of the city, a sleek black collar sitting proudly around his neck while the vampire idly played with the rose-patterned leash he was holding. Since they were in public, Ray knew that he wouldn’t be able to walk around freely if he wanted to use his beast to track this woman. He and Michael had even set up a code word ( _maybe even a safeword_ , Ray mused, a warm feeling pitting in his stomach) just in case he couldn’t stand having the collar on anymore.

Beside him, Gavin was laying down, shaggy fur hanging in his eyes while he snoozed. He wore a harness and leash, both the pattern of a creeper from Minecraft, the video game the four had been playing before Geoff and Jack had joined them. Gavin felt a connection to the creepers after he realised that they liked destroying things almost as much as he did. Ryan had simply laughed and gave him some sort of _look_ that Ray couldn’t quite place when the rakshasa asked him to order it off some website in case they needed it. Michael loosely held onto his leash as well, mind obviously far away from the situation.

The three Gents (as they had taken to calling themselves after Gavin had dubbed them such – I mean, they were the three oldest) had gone into a coffee shop that the dogs had led them all to to ask around about their silver-haired target.

Ray shifted his weight lower to lay down, sinking onto the frozen ground. He huffed of the fresh snow from his nose and looked up at his mate. Unease set into his bones – as well as the cold – and he let out a light whine. Michael’s fingers deftly found the spot behind his ear and applied enough pressure to start to take the edge off of his nerves. His eyes were starting to drift closed when the door of the coffee shop suddenly flew open, Geoff immediately tumbling into a snowdrift on the other side of the sidewalk.

“Please listen!” Jack exclaimed, hands raised in a placating manner, almost as if he could hide behind them. “He didn’t mean that you sleep around per say! Just that you’re really pretty and would be able to charge a lot of money if you happened to be in that line of wo- Oof!”

Whatever horrendous place the witch was taking that sentence was lost as he soon found himself face-first in the same pile of powder as his boyfriend. The door shut behind the shopkeeper while the two men lay together and moaned wearily.

“I fucking hate you, Geoff Lazer Ramsey.”


	7. Blahblahblah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi shit i forgot this exists. this is v short but i wanted to post something to let y'all know that i'm still alive and kickin'
> 
> please message me on [tumblr](http://www.luchemuffin.tumblr.com/) and talk with me about headcanons and give me prompts please.

“You called her a WHAT?!” Michael choked out, copper eyes glaring daggers into the side of the trickster’s head.

“He called her, and I quote, _better than a high-end whore_ ,” the angel sighed while pressing his fingertips against his eyelids and leaning back in the vampire’s armchair. “And then Jack decided to be his knight in shining armour and tried to cover up his idiocy with even more idiocy and ended up getting them both thrown out. Luckily for us, _one_ of us has relevant powers.”

A low growl rippled across the room and all eyes landed on the Old English Sheepdog. Gavin jerked himself up and cleared his now-human throat. “You flirted the information out of her?”

“A simple ‘Yes, dear’ can go miles.”

A cough poorly disguised Geoff’s “Angelic cheater.” He was promptly ignored.

“Yeah, but you bloody well know how that make me feel!” The rakshasa shook his head violently. “It’s been a day, Ryan. One smeggin’ day.”

“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise,” Geoff muttered to anyone who was listening only to receive a sharp elbow from his boyfriend and a sharper bark from the dog left at his feet.

Ryan took to studying his cuticles, shoulders slumping with nearly palpable guilt. “It was for a good cause. I found out her name so now I know where she’s been holing up. It also looks like she’s already been hurt by something and is having trouble healing.”

“How could you have possibly learned that? I mean, sure, you’ve got the Big Man Upstairs on your side, but there’s no way a barista was able to tell you all that,” grunted Ray as he shifted back.

“Last night while Gav was asleep, I scanned Angel Airwaves and heard some chatter. Like I said, I now have a name to match, so it was really just a matter of remembering what I heard.”

“Okay,” Jack said, voice soothingly low. “Okay. Everything else aside, we can work with this. Where is she hiding out, Haywood?”

“A small house on the outskirts of town. Looks like she’s gotten some security by the looks of it. I can pick up traces of several mutts laying around the perimeter, and I’d be willing to bet that they aren’t training for the Westminster Dog Show.” He chuckled and carded his hand through his hair.

Gavin shook his head before speaking. “So what, we just intrude on the bird and hope that Ray and I can actually pull off the distraction? Our original plan didn’t include infiltrating a bloody townhouse.”

Cocking his head to the side, Michael hesitated before speaking up. “I hate to say it, but Gavino’s right. Sure, there’s six of us, but even with all our powers, Ryan’s the only one with a blade that can gut the fucking bitch, and we don’t have an exact number of dogs to expect. Plus, I might be overthinking the shit out of this, but we also have two dogs who don’t always stay that way. There’s a chance we’re up against a similar clusterfuck of supernatural freaks.”

Silence fell over the group.

“We aren’t trained fighters, Ryan,” Jack finally spoke up. “Geoff and I hid in another reality for most of humanity’s wars.”

“Plus, I’m a fucking pussy,” Ray added, tipping his head in the witch’s direction.

Michael just shrugged. “I haven’t fought much since the Civil War. And that only entailed shooting those Confederate motherfuckers with a horribly inaccurate gun. I don’t even really know much about the supernatural world other than the fact that I eat the blood, Gavin eats the flesh, and Ray eats the guts. Geoff loves booze and candy and is old as dicks. Jack is maybe a human, I think? He’s also old as dicks.”

The angel placed a hand on the back of his neck before kneading the muscle with a sigh. He let it fall and land on his partner’s shoulder. “I’ll train you then. When we banished the darkness to create light, God taught us all how to fight. I’ll show you all.”

Again, silence, soon broken by Gavin’s quiet “You’ll protect us?”

A nod. “With all I have, Gav. With all I have.”


	8. Practice Makes Perfect (So Practice on Me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit y'all remember me? i am back with a hella short chapter (because i am at work and don't really want anyone to know that i'm writing fanfiction also i'm not working bc i'm writing fanfiction) ANYWAYS. i'm going to bring this back if people want? let me know if people are still interested.  
> my [tumblr](http://www.milesandcompany.tumblr.com/)'s changed if you want to give me suggestions or have requests!

The first day of training was miserable. Ryan had tried so hard to teach them simultaneously, but he could only grapple them one by one, leaving the other four to openly mock whoever was doing the training.

“Jack, just drown him in your beard. He won’t be able to breathe through all that scruff,” Michael shouted from the sideline.

“He doesn’t need to breathe, you bellend,” Gavin remarked without taking his eyes off the scrum in front of him.

“Shit, maybe just sit on him instead. You could crush him!”

“He would just be able to repair whatever was done to his vessel.”

Michael paused for a moment before finally suggesting, “Just fucking stab him, Jack!”

Geoff didn’t like the physicality, just kept teleporting around when it was his turn. Ryan soon grew immensely frustrated, eventually just sitting down and waiting for the trickster’s shenanigans to cease.

Michael was too trigger-happy, made lunging attacks that left him too vulnerable for retaliation. His rage caused him to become too rash, too uncalculating.

Ray tried for a good ten minute to hold a knife in his teeth while he was in his canine form. Though Michael and Gavin found this entertaining, Ryan just sighed in frustration and moved on.

Fighting with Gavin was more successful than the angel had anticipated. He somehow could anticipate Ryan’s swings and parry with his own without missing a beat. Maybe it was something about dating that had made them more attuned to each other; maybe Ryan was just letting himself become an easy target for his partner. Still, Gavin wasn’t necessarily _improving_ , just doing the same thing again and again. Ryan decided that maybe he should change tactics.

The next day, he told them all to fight in their natural styles. The result was instantaneously incredible.

Jack brought his potions, many of which actually did significant damage, so much so that the angel needed to sit down for a while to regain his strength.

Geoff returned to his teleporting tactic, which would considerably confuse any foe. He shifted his shape in slight ways, causing Ryan to miss him several times while attempting to strike the trickster. Using mirages of himself, he was able to work his way behind Ryan’s back, reaching around to plant his knife firmly into the center of the angel’s chest.

Ray and Michael actually teamed up, Michael using his speed to mimic Geoff’s patterns of evasion while Ray ran distraction. The dog was fast, his legs powerful, his bite unrelenting. Because of Ray’s freerunning days, he knew the best ways to plant his feet – even if there were twice as many – to successfully reach Ryan’s throat. He ripped out large chunk, yanking on the veins and arteries under the skin. While Ryan was occupied with the large animal, Michael jabbed his knife into the spine of the angel, viciously tearing the blade upward and colliding with Ryan’s heart. (Ryan had to sit down after that round, too.)

After the previous rounds of sparring, Ryan found himself wondering what fighting against Gavin would be like. He was surprised by how surprised he ended up being, actually.

Fighting Gavin was like being let loose thirty days after Noah’s ark embarked. He used aerial forms to circle the angel’s head, smaller mammals to trip him up. He gradually increased his size as the forms progressed. The Maine Coon was small, delivering nimble scratches, escaping with quick footfalls, tangling his tail up in Ryan’s legs. A mountain lion brought with it larger claws and sharp teeth. The lion – which Ryan remembered from his reunion with Gav – had powerful jaws, difficult to deflect without using his own powers.

But he grew more aware of his suspicion that he was just playing it easy on his partner. He flexed his soul, feeling the power rippling beneath as he cracked his knuckles. The knife clattered to the floor, forgotten as the angel forced his hand out just as the lion leaped at him, sending the cat flying against the wall. The rakshasa morphed back to his human form, a scowl forming a confused gash across his tanned face.

“What the bloody hell, Rye?”

Ryan felt his body mend from the previous attacks. He let the power glow in his hands as he replied, “You’ll be fighting an angel, no?”

Gavin grumbled a few choice words before deciding to change tactics. He tried becoming a snake, slithering up the angel’s leg and biting, but Ryan’s body exploded with blue light. Larger animals either got set on fire or pushed back into the wall. The rakshasa grew more and more frustrated with Ryan, growling through all the forms he tried that were able to growl.

As he shifted in midair to try to land on his partner – getting electrocuted – he had an idea. He turned into an Etruscan shrew – the smallest thing he could think of – and dodged the energy hurtling towards him. When he got behind Ryan, he changed into the other smallest thing – a bumblebee – and flitted up Ryan’s body, careful not to make any physical contact. When he was about chest-height, he shifted back to his human form, dragging the knife across Ryan’s neck, effectively severing every nerve and tendon, cutting just down to the bone.

Immediately Gavin dropped the knife and dropped to the floor with his boyfriend. He knew _logically_ that Ryan would be fine since the blade wasn’t an archangel’s blade, but it was devastating to see blood pouring out of the angel’s neck. Gav murmured sweet encouragements while stroking Ryan’s face lovingly.

Blueish-white light filled the slit in Ryan’s throat, and everything mended itself back together. Ryan opened his eyes, a brilliant cerulean that reflected so many emotions that Gavin couldn’t necessarily put a name to. Happy that he was awake, Gav pressed a kiss against Ryan’s lips, only slightly irked at the catcalling behind him.


	9. Something in the Air Tonight (Oh Lord)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please talk to me on [tumblr](http://www.milesandcompany.tumblr.com) or ask for my skype so we can talk about headcanons and ideas for this story!!! i'm begging y'all!!!

Since their successful tussles with Ryan, Jack had learned new spells to cast and designed new potions to use. He kept most of the the potions all in glass coke bottles, somehow meticulously labelled despite the clumsily scrawled handwriting. ( _They’re like magical Moltov Cocktails!_ Gavin had exclaimed, running his fingers over the recapped glass.)

Ray had learned how to use a knife, a dagger, bracers, brass knuckles, anything close combat enough that he could shift and use his size and teeth. Through his training, he had nearly mastered shifting between forms to take advantage of his speed and agility as a dog and his ability to use weapons as a human.

Michael matched up with Jack to master some more… _explosive_ techniques. He certainly wasn’t as magical as the witch, so most everything still needed to be prepared prior to battle. Still, the vampire understood how to start small fires by igniting neatly tied bundles of hexed herbs in order to causes some pretty devastating explosions.

Geoff himself had learned a lot. He seemed to have gotten a hang of teleporting and had moved on to mastering shifting environments to his advantage: making gravity stronger to inhibit flight, creating reflective rooms to confuse his attackers, changing the battlefield to something less sturdy, like sand or mud.

But most of all, Geoff had learned about the five men surrounding him, filling his life with such joy.

Sure, they were teaching each other how to fight so as to _not die_ , but Geoff thought it brought something out in all of them. Take Gavin for example:

Ryan helped Gavin learn more about his invisibility. He could use it to sneak up on someone so he could use his teeth as his main weapon. But it was more than that. He could use it to sneak up on _Ryan_ so he could jump on his back to surprise him. He could use it to sneak around Jack’s altar and move things around. He could use it to play pranks on Ray and Michael. Most of all, he could use it to bring all six of them together, to unify them in laughter and playful remarks.

Geoff thought he could see the way Ryan looked at Gavin, and as the weeks progressed, how he looked at Jack, and at Michael, and at Ray. He could swear he saw the strange way Ryan looked at _him_ , eyes gentle, smile quirking his lips into a lopsided bow.

Geoff wondered if maybe there wasn’t something more going on.

* * *

“I’m just saying that if everyone was going to bugger somebody in this room, they would probably choose Michael!” Gavin insisted, softly punching the vampire’s arm.

Michael laughed along, but Ray (sober since he swore he would be since his Change) didn’t seem to find much humour in the shifter’s statement. He decided to switch the focus off of his mate.

“Fuck no, dude! Everyone wants to bang the imported twink!”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed and his grip on Gavin’s waist tightened, but his eyes passed over Ray with a strange emotion in them. Ray relaxed and decided to just fuck it, shrugging off his momentary jealousy to posit, “¿Por que no los dos?”

Geoff burst into loud guffaws before noticing that no one else was joining him. Instead, Gavin’s eyes were moving frantically between Ryan and Ray, desperately trying to understand the silent conversation happening around him. Jack had been standing up to get Geoff another drink but was now frozen, watching the scene unfold.

The room was absolutely still.

Until Geoff couldn’t take any more of this pathetic dance they’d been doing.

“Look, I’ve noticed the way Ryan looks at us. I’ve fuckin’ seen how Michael coos after Gavin. I know for a matter of fact that Ray trusts Jack like a goddamn idiot. I had this stupid discussion with Jack the other day. We both said we’d date any of you in a fuckin’ heartbeat.” At this, Jack turned bright red but didn’t shy away from the other men at all. “But right now, Gavin, Michael, and I are too drunk for this conversation. So I’ll tell you what. We’re all going to go to bed right now, in our respective homes with our respective partners, and we’re going to fucking talk about this in the morning, and then we’re gonna go ruin that celestial cunt’s day.”

With that, he stood up, grabbed the witch’s hand, and blinked out of existence. Ryan and Gavin, after a pause to collect themselves, disappeared as well.

Michael closed his eyes for a minute and then opened them widely, staring at Ray.

“Dude. What the actual fuck was that?”

* * *

The second Geoff and Jack appeared in their own house near Boston, Jack turned on the trickster.

“You said we weren’t going to bring that up until everyone was ready!” he cried, shaking a finger at the older man.

“Maybe they were ready,” replied Geoff, fingering at his moustache.

Jack shook his head. “I understand that it’s in your nature to joke around, but now is not the time, Geoffrey.”

Geoff dragged his hand down his face and sighed. “I know, but honestly none of them were ever going to get their shit together. I just expedited the fucking process or whatever.”

They locked eyes for a moment before Jack sighed as well. “Let’s just hope you expedited it in the right direction.”

* * *

At the same time, Ryan and Gavin were facing the reality of what happened. Rather, Ryan was facing what happened and Gavin was using this time to practice his invisibility.

“You know I can still hear you,” Ryan growled, clearly unhappy that his boyfriend was behaving so childishly. “Being invisible is like pulling the video cord but leaving the audio. Stop avoiding me.”

“’M not avoidin’ you.”

“Right. It’s totally normal for us to come home from an… _interesting_ night with the guys and for you to just suddenly blink out of existence.”

“You said I need to practice,” Gavin’s voice trailed as he started sliding across the room.

“Now’s not the time. I want to see you, Gav.” Ryan’s voice started drifting closer and closer to pleading. “Please, let me see you.”

The shuffling stopped in front of the angel and Gavin popped back into view. “Hi Ryan,” he mumbled, eyes cast down and a sheepish grin on his face.

“You’ll stay human so we can talk about this?”

“Never been human, Rye.”

“You know what I meant, Gavin.”

Gavin paused to consider the original question before nodding and sitting stiffly on the couch. Ryan sat down next to him and cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry if it makes me a bad boyfriend, but I’ve thought about it too, y’know? We all click together, and you and Michael are inseparable, not to mention what you have with Geoff.” Ryan ended the sentence with an upward lilt, nearly making it into a question.

“I’ve thought about it, I s’pose. Never really imagined it could be like this? If it goes wrong, it’ll make a right dog’s dinner out of everything we have. But…”

“But?” Ryan pries.

“But Jack is just so kind and Ray is protective. I think Geoff would move mountains for me and Michael wouldn’t be too far behind. But I love you, Rye. I don’t want to lose you.” He looked up at the older man with shimmering eyes, drowning in more emotion than he’d ever shown before. It was so unlike Gavin that Ryan was almost visually startled.

“I love you, Gav, but that doesn’t mean we can’t love other people too. I was never a fan of the Church’s… I don’t know the word. Look, I always thought the monogamy thing was an interesting turn in humanity’s story, if highly inconsistent. 'Ah, yes, I have a biological imperative to pass my genes on and the best way to do that is definitely to find one other person out of millions on the planet' – which, if you haven’t noticed, there's no shortage – 'and settle down with them and hope like hell that nothing goes wrong. Also, sex is highly pleasurable, so let's set up a lot of rules about why we can't have it and definitely shouldn't enjoy ourselves.’” Ryan finished by taking a deep breath. “Wow, I guess I had a lot more feelings about that than I thought.”

“It makes sense, though, dunnit? If there’s that many humans – and, hell, that excludes our bloody lot entirely – then how is one person ever… _it_? Not that I couldn’t be happy with just you,” he added, just in case, “but what if there’s more out there?”

“My point exactly, dear. I think we should try it.”

Gavin glanced back up at Ryan again, this time with a playful look on his face. “Yeah?”

Ryan huffed out a laugh. “Yeah.”

* * *

“Dude.” Ray breathed.

“Dude.” Michael agreed.

“I mean, you’re still my mate.”

“And you’re mine.”

“You down?”

“Hell fucking yeah, you?”

“Fuckin’ yeah, dude.”

Ray held up a fist and Michael bumped it before kissing him and dragging him to bed.

* * *

The next morning, when Ryan and Gavin popped into Michael and Ray’s apartment, no one was sitting in the living room. Upon further inspection, no one was in the kitchen or bathroom either. Gavin curled his pointer finger a little and tapped near his mouth and then near his eyes. His eyebrows were pitched up his forehead, punctuating the _sex?_ he’d just signed. Ryan shrugged and continued to the door.

Gavin latched on to his arm and pulled back. He made a fist and hooked his thumb under his chin before pushing it out and shaking his head. He let go of Ryan’s hand to bring up two bent hands, letting his fingertips come together twice. _Not fair_.

Ryan sighed and headed back toward the couch, but not before pushing his hands away from his body, then leaping one hand over the other. _Pushover_.

The two sat on the couch until Jack and Geoff appeared much less subtly. The trickster glanced around the room before arching a single eyebrow. Gavin and Ryan shrugged in unison.

“Michael, Ray, you two better not be fucking in there!” Geoff called, footsteps heavy toward the door. “Or if you are, there better be room for four more.”

Jack huffed and collapsed down in an armchair. He threw his bag on the floor and started rummaging through it for something. The clinking of coke bottles could be heard through the apartment, as well as the jingling of whatever Jack had just put in his pocket.

After a few raps from Geoff’s fist, Michael – shirtless but in pyjama pants – and Ray – four-legged and mussy – emerged from the bedroom.

Geoff started what probably would’ve been a real zinger but Michael held up a hand to stop him.

“Before you start, no, we weren’t having sex. Some of us just like to sleep in later than Licking-the-moon’s-ass O’Clock.”

Gavin spoke up. “Ray, you sleep in your canine form?”

Michael shook his head. “No, he sleeps naked and didn’t want to put on clothes to come out here.”

Jack laughed before pointing at the bedroom. “Go put on some pants, Ray. Even boxers will do.”

When Ray returned, still a dog but presumably with more clothes on, everyone was stationary and holding their breath. Sighing, Geoff stood up and cleared his throat.

“As de facto leader and most handsome member of the party,” Ryan started to protest the leader part but decided it wasn’t worth it, “I think it’s incredibly important that we discuss just what the fuck happened last night. Jack?”

“Jesus Christ, Geoff.” Jack scowled at his partner before smiling back at the men sitting in front of him. “This is Geoff’s way of officially asking you out. All four of you.”

“We’re down,” Michael answered while Ray woofed in response.

Gavin trained his eyes on Ryan and raised a hand with spread fingers and a folded thumb to his chin and tapped three times. _Tell them._

“We’d like that too,” Ryan responded, keeping his gaze on Gavin to make sure he was answering correctly. Gavin nodded and smiled at the room. “It’d be bloody tippy toppers!”

Ray had shifted back to his human form and was lounging on the floor against Michael’s legs in his boxers and a hoodie. “So do we like touch each other’s dicks now or…?”

Geoff guffawed before choking back his laughter. “Maybe once we’ve killed that winged whore – not you, Ryan. I’m sure your wings are beautiful if you’d ever show them.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and snorted. He stood up and flexed his shoulders, allowing his wings to appear. He stretched them out, feathers white and nearly shimmering, and they reached from wall to wall in the dingy apartment. The men sat in silence, staring at the outstretched wings and trying to think of something to say.

This time Ray broke the ice, taking a gulp of air before muttering “So glad we get to tap that later.”


	10. [Dramatic Battle Music Intensifies]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> talk to me please.

They were circled around a table with a sketch of the rouge angel’s house lying in the middle. Ryan was putting sloppy X’s where he could sense the canine presences. He circled vaguely where the angel would be waiting.

“I don’t know what she’s doing there, but it seems like she’s just waiting for us.” Ryan shook his head and tapped his pen against the table.

“Sounds like a bloody massive trap if you ask me,” Gavin suggested, shrugging his shoulders and going back to his energy drink.

Michael couldn’t help himself. “Fucking thank God no one did.”

Ray chuckled and elbowed him, nearly spilling both their Redbulls in the process.

“Okay, so it could be a trap, but as far as we know, we have the upper hand. How should we play this?” Jack asked, one arm thrown around Geoff and the other hand idly stroking his beard.

Ryan pondered the question for a moment. “Well, we all have certain weaknesses, right?” They all nodded. “I figure I should fight the angel since I can withstand her powers. If they want to, Gavin and Geoff can join me, since she won’t be strong enough to off you either.”

Geoff’s voice cracked as he asked, “And if we don’t want to?”

Ryan sighed. “I guess I’d say not to kill anyone in a bloody manner or get too close to wood. A single blood-soaked stake would be the end for you. If you’re fighting the angel, she’ll be your only victim. No one else will be around to stab you when she’s gone.”

After a pause for the trickster to collect himself, he nodded. “Fine. Fuckin’ count me in, buddy.”

They both turned to Gavin expectantly. “Well I don’t wanna be faffin’ about while you two get mullered. I’ll be there.”

“Okay. That settles it for us. Michael, you’re especially weak to angels, so you stay as far away as possible. Help Jack with his spells and make sure no silver knives get close to Ray. Keep your head on your shoulders,” Ryan points a finger at the vampire. “No, literally. I can’t bring you back from decapitation.”

The rest of the men murmured their agreement. A hush blanketed the group as they exchanged terrified looks. Michael finally shook it off, pushing away from the table and growling, “Let’s go destroy this blue-eyed bitch.”

* * *

Ryan teleported them all to a forest near the house. Michael immediately stiffened as he smelled the air.

“Ryan, those aren’t dogs.”

Ryan furrowed his eyebrows. “I know a dog when I sense one.”

“You fucking idiot. They’re definitely like dogs. Fucking werewolves, Rye.”

Ryan stiffened before squaring his shoulders. “That’s fine. We’re immune to their bite. I mean, the turning part. It’ll still hurt like hell if one manages to get you.”

Geoff coughed and motioned with his head towards Jack. “You forgot about the human.”

Ryan levelled his eyes with the witch. “You got this?”

Nodding, Jack replied, “Of course. Just watch the teeth and I’ll be fine, right? I’ve got enough long-distance power to take down at least one.”

Geoff turned toward Jack and grabbed his shoulders. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“You really think I could sit this out? We’re together now. All of us. I can’t lose that.”

“We can’t lose you, you donut,” Gavin interjected.

“I’m doing this. I can do this.” It sounded a bit like a mantra he’d started repeating to himself, probably to psyche himself up. “I can do this,” he repeated.

“Okay, we’re doing this, then. Michael, Ray, get ready to lead the charge. Surely she knows by now that we’re here. Distract the wolves and we’ll slip in.”

“That’s what she said,” Ray commented but – despite Gavin and Michael’s stifled laughter – received only a stern look from the Gents.

“Right, thanks Ray. Let’s go,” Ryan said, his command sounding more like a suggestion.

“Wait,” Jack exclaimed. “I have something.” He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out whatever had been clinking around earlier – six silver rings. “I, uh, cast a spell on these. If you ever get lost, we can find you. Plus, they’re silver, so they might come in handy during the fight,” he glanced at Michael and Ray.

Michael slipped on the ring and cracked his knuckles. “Thanks, Jack. Remember, keep your silver close. Let’s show them how to fucking fight.”

* * *

They approached the house cautiously, trying to sneak up on the werewolves sitting in lawn chairs in front of the house. One wolf was drinking a beer, the others lemonade. There were four that they could see and Michael and Ray silently picked the two they’d each fight. Ryan was nervously twisting his ring until Gav put a hand over his and smiled before turning invisible. Ryan nodded and both he and Geoff followed suit.

Jack had handed Michael a couple of bundles of herbs and lit them. The vampire took a deep breath and yelled, “Hey, bitches. Catch!” He threw one for each of them, and each landed with a violent explosion that was enough to knock the werewolves off their chairs. As human as they’d looked a minute ago, their teeth and claws were now bared, and Ray could just barely make out the yellow of their eyes. His grip on his daggers was sweaty but unrelenting. He approached one of the first wolves and ducked under its claws.

Michael was fairing similarly for now, though both his wolves had gotten to him at the same time. He kicked the taller one in the shin and made a move to stab the shorter one in the heart. The shorter one pushed him off while the taller one smacked a clawed hand across the vampire’s face that he couldn’t quite dodge. He felt the blood flow down his eyebrow but tried to ignore it.

Meanwhile Jack was multitasking, chanting new spells and throwing different potions where ever he saw fit. He shut down means of communication so the wolves couldn’t work together as well. He figured that Michael and Ray knew each other well enough to communicate silently at this point. He threw a potion that he knew burned like acid at one of Ray’s assailants. It quickly went down and Ray dove to drive a dagger through its heart. The wolf howled but soon went limp under Ray.

While he was on the ground, the other wolf jumped on him, sinking its teeth into the flesh of his shoulder. The skinwalker yelped and changed into his canine form to try to get out of the wolf’s hold. He ran in circles around the werewolf who was unable to keep up with him. He reared back and threw his body at the wolf, locking his jaws tightly on its throat. It scratched furiously at the dog, trying its hardest to get rid of the source of the horrible pain. It finally managed to rip the dog off of it, throwing Ray hard to the ground.

Michael used his speed to race around his two wolves much like Ray had. He was able to trip them a couple times and get a few good stabs in, but none of them connected with the heart. He used his fingers to gouge out the shorter one’s eyes, nails easily severing the optic nerve. As it screeched out in pain, Michael turned his attention back to the taller one.

“A little help here, Jack?”

Jack immediately started rummaging through his bag. He found a bottle that seemed to suit him and he threw it. Flame seemed to erupt from inside the wolf, tendrils of fire licking from his eyes and mouth. The wolf fell to the ground, unable to scream from the smoke filling its lungs. Michael was quick to plant his dagger firmly in the wolf’s heart, and then a couple more times – you know, just to be safe. He turned back to the shorter wolf and tried to stop it from clawing its face off. Not that he cared, mind you, just that it was hard to get to its heart when it was like that. He decided to flip the wolf onto its front, and though it was harder to get to, drove one of his knives into the soft muscle in its chest. Again, he repeated this process a couple times, but only because he’s thorough.

By the time he got up and wiped off his blades, Ray was standing by the porch of the house next to two dead werewolves. “Beat you.”

* * *

 

In the meantime, Geoff walked up to the door with an invisible Ryan and Gavin flanking him.

“You’re sure about this, Ryan?”

“It’s my mission.”

“Right, the mission.” Geoff swallowed.

A voice came from inside the house. “Hello, boys.”

“Never mind. Can I go back with the other guys?”

Gavin nudged him. “Bloody hell, Geoff. It’s just a bird with fancy wings. We can do this.”

Geoff nodded and pushed the door open.

Inside was as old and rundown as the outside. The wallpaper was peeling from the walls and the air smelt strongly of must and mildew. The stairs had caved in, the tile on the floor was cracked and chipped. The whole place just felt _wrong_. Geoff shuddered but froze when he saw what was directly to his left.

A golden throne adorned with what looked like opal and onyx sat in the middle of the parlor. It looked like something from the nineteen hundreds but it was still as shiny and brilliant as ever. Atop the red velvet cushion sat a woman with silver hair and blue eyes. Gavin had to bite back his growl as he saw her.

“Raphael, it’s good to see you, brother.”

Ryan blinked back to visibility. “Obyzouth, I wish I could say the same. Father sent me. You have to stop this childish behavior and come home.”

“Come home?” Obyzouth purred. “Why would I ever wish to do that, brother?”

Ryan didn’t have an answer. Instead, he balled up his fists and asked, “Why are you doing this? What can you possibly gain from this?”

“Oh, Raphael, what _can’t_ I gain from this? We angels had everything until Father created those savage animal idiots.” She paused to collect herself. “He ruined it, tainted the entire world. But Lucifer? He understands. He fell. Father _made_ him fall. If we free Lucifer, we can fight back against Father and take back what was once ours.”

Ryan scoffed. “You think that a couple of angels led by one archangel is going to be enough to defeat a _god_?”

“We’re more than a couple, brother. We are within the family, hiding until the time is right. There’s still time to join us, Raphael. There’s still time to be saved.” The rumble of her voice was soothing, beckoning

“No.” Ryan felt Gavin squeeze his hand, gently reminding him that they were still there, that he wasn’t facing this alone. “God, you’re such a bitch.”

Obyzouth jumped to her feet. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“You heard me. You. Are. A. Bitch. No wonder you fell. I wouldn’t expect more from anyone like you, Obyzouth.”

“Rye, what the bloody heck are you doing?” Gavin whispered, steadily growing more frantic from his side.

Geoff’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, slowly starting to shift the environment. He took his time, not wanting to draw attention to his powers. He made the floor sticky around Obyzouth’s feet, he started to make the air denser, and he started putting more mirages of furniture around the room, hoping to trip her up. His hand hovered over his knife, ready to make a move as soon as she decided to strike.

“That’s a really precious dog you brought with you, brother.” Ryan looked down at his feet and noticed that Gavin had appeared as the Old English Sheepdog again. “No wonder you know so much about bitches. It would really be a shame if something happened to it.”

“I’m done talking, sister.” Ryan drew his archangel blade, all shining and sleek, a faint blue emanating from the runes inscribed on the side. “Cease and desist or cease to exist. It’s your choice.”

“Cute rhyme, but it won’t save your boyfriends,” she calmly replied before blasting both the trickster and the rakshasa back through a decrepit wall. Geoff cursed and Gavin whined, though, so Ryan knew they were okay.

Ryan brandished his blade when she tried to walk closer to the men laying on the splinters of broken wood. “Leave them. This is between you and me.”

“Brother, it stopped being between you and me when you teamed up with these hairless apes.”

“Technically two of them have fur.”

“What the fuck ever,” Obyzouth rolled her eyes. “They make you weak. You care too much.”

Ryan was suddenly at her throat, squeezing her windpipe with one hand, blade poised to stab into her heart. “I would rather care too much than be a heartless nothing like you.” He was just about to make the plunge when bright light burst from her, knocking Ryan backward and causing him to lose his grip on the blade.

“Then I’ll make sure you feel this,” she snarled, picking up the blade and looming over the archangel.

Just as she brought her arm back to follow through on her promise, her legs felt like jelly and something hard rammed into her hand and sent the blade flying. Gavin squawked in joy before shifting back to a dog to check on his boyfriend. Geoff scurried over to pick up Ryan’s blade before turning it invisible and throwing it to the side. Obyzouth growled in frustration.

Gavin had turned into a cobra and wound his way around the other angel’s legs. She stumbled and grunted, kicking the snake off as fast as she could. The rakshasa quickly shifted to a tiger, planting his claws deep into her back and biting her neck. She let her energy pulse again, shoving the tiger backwards.

After slowly shuffling backwards, Ryan’s hand collided with the blade. He picked it up, hand flexing possessively around the grip. Obyzouth was definitely occupied by the animals parading around her and the monumental reality shifts that Geoff was bringing.

Ryan snuck up behind his sister, reached around her body, and dug the see-through dagger straight into her ribs. Blue light sparked from the wound, and she let out an anguished cry.

Over the screaming, Ryan spoke into her ear. “I never told you, but Father never liked you much anyway.”

* * *

“What do we do now?” Ray asked, once they’d cleaned up and been healed by Ryan. They were sitting back in the New York apartment, reeling from all that had just happened.

“We find this Lucifer bastard and stop him from taking over, yeah?” Gavin suggested.

“Those are my orders, yes,” Ryan replied.

They stood in silence before Ray piped back up. “So. Raphael, eh?”


End file.
